


Love, Strife and the Agony of Unendings

by SteelandSilk (SilkCut)



Category: Sacred Games, The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Indian Character, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkCut/pseuds/SteelandSilk
Summary: Veteran Mumbai crime lord Ganesh Gaitonde tries to celebrate his wife's death anniversary twelve years after she was slain. He meets a courtesan whose enigma should be enough to keep him occupied.





	1. Reverberate

**Author's Note:**

> ✪ Please take note that this fanfic was originally written as a roleplay thread for Twitter RP, which is why the format is switching third-person POVs between Ganesh and Ishtar.
> 
> ✪ The version of Ganesh Gaitonde that I've written here is a mix between the Netflix show and the book he was based from. Certain liberties about his backstory were also taken to fit the narrative.
> 
> ✪ Meanwhile, the version of Ishtar for this fic is loosely based on Neil Gaiman's characterization of her in The Sandman comics in which she was a de-powered goddess working as a stripper in the States. This was supposedly an alternate universe version of her in which she lives for at least a few centuries in India first before migrating to the US.
> 
> ✪ Any feedback is appreciated. This story is still on its early stages, but I'm very invested to keep pursuing it.

 

* * *

 

 

 ín whích twσ pєσplє вєαríng nαmєsαkєs σf gσds cσnvєrgє tσgєthєr, ín α plαcє whєrє єvєn thєír sєcrєts hαvє sєcrєts.

 

 

 

  
∷∷•∶|❂|∶•∷∷

 

 

  
He came to the club with three of the newest recruits from just last month while two of the more seasoned ones waited by the entrance to serve as both surveillance and protection.

Growing old taught Ganesh the value of patience especially where leisure is concerned. There are hardly any more games to win; Mumbai was conquered. It was a city that has recognized time and time and again that crime and gunfire paved way for its thriving commerce to this day.

And so, tonight of all nights, its king will strive to blend among the common folk, regardless of the entourage still trailing behind him. These boys were always so eager to please, heeding his every command with a resounding affirmation no matter how anxious the smiles they'd give him in exchange.

To sit at the far edge of the club, obscured by the shadows amidst the dancing lights gave Ganesh the much needed repose and isolation he craved, though not necessarily anonymity itself. After all, there is hardly anything small and inconspicious about Ganesh Gaitonde.

The women on the platform continued to shed what little garments they had left. Their skins also glowed, alternating between luminiscent and harsh depending on which angle they spin and twist their bodies in. Ganesh watched them until all four women blurred together. His boys were by his back, no doubt trying to enjoy their nonalcoholic drinks even whilst they secretly desired for something that will intoxicate.

The tradition of sobriety among G-Company was still upheld. Senior members staunchly reinforced it to upon the recruits, knowing that when a group sacrifices something together, they can grow together as a unit and become a real brotherhood. It certainly worked back in the old days.

Ganesh honestly stopped caring. So long as these motherfuckers can do their jobs even if they were shit-faced drunk, then who was he to impose? Even an old capo like him knew how to let go of some control.

And Ganesh was indeed getting old. Next week he'll be forty-four. He plans to forget that tonight and hopes to drown himself in the company of an elusive woman of his choice. So far none of the candidates interested him, regardless of their physical features. An attractive face with a great body to match it was hardly the only thing he was looking for at the moment.

There has to be a quality to the woman which would entice him to spend time and money in their presence.

Ever watchful, Ganesh scrutinized each of the females on stage and the ones walking around to give lap dances in personal booths. The tacky disco ball somewhere above him cascaded colors across his serene face, causing the intense look in his dark eyes to ever deepen.

He absentmindedly twisted the gold ring with a ruby gem on his middle finger. It was a gift from his late wife of long ago and a real good luck charm.

Perhaps he would need it during this patient search.

 

 

 

✶⇢⇢

 

 

Faith endures in the most unlikely ways, even in godless places such as the city of Mumbai.

Oh, yes, people still have their temples and mosques and chapels for every devoted Hindu or Muslim or the occasional Christian, but faith here often comes in bargains now; like a few alms spared for the poor whose wealth lies in their fervent hope they could have had better lives.

Before the Great Flood and the final separation between divine and mortal, Ishtar never ran out of followers to pluck from; those who feasted, fucked and killed in her name, kings, wives and warriors alike. She commanded them with the sway of her hips akin to the capricious storms of fate, and blessed indeed were they to worship the goddess of Conflict and Desire.

But then the feasts dwindled although the battles still raged on, except they were dedicated less and less in her favor, until one awful day Ishtar did not have temples anymore either, or loyal men or women who whispered her name during coitus. New rulers usurped their fathers and brought their own pantheon of gods with them, and so she was cast aside along other deities who fell too.

The achingly beautiful and unattainable Ishtar had now become just another forgotten relic of a misremembered past.

And so she fled to the Indus Valley, embittered yet grateful to accept the scraps handed by the gods who still reigned supreme in that part of the continent. They never said an unkind word in her presence, but Ishtar knew their generosity disguised the condescending nature of how they perceived her; they thought she was so small now and slowly losing her divine glow.

They were right; that was the worst and most hurtful part of it.

Again, she just chose to keep silent whilst she lived in forced seclusion among deities who found her pitiable yet useful nevertheless.

And all around her the world moved on.

She wasn't among the four women in the platform at the moment who danced and stripped for the vultures surrounding them. Instead, Ishtar was hidden in a booth with her own personal pimp, currently being bartered to a patron who could afford the steep price of possessing her for one measly night.

Dusky and refined, Ishtar was draped in a beige fabric so thin that it revealed a few freckles on certain spots and outlined every curve of her ever youthful body. A multitude of gold and colored bangles chimed on her wrist as she moved her arm to gesture here and there. She had also put on a lacy burka to highlight her mystery in spite of the state of semi-undress.

'A meek-slash-wily Arab girl in her twenties who is more experienced than all the whores in Mumbai combined' is how the pimp always advertised her to clients. 'She is both song and fire to your loins, if you can afford it.'

Ishtar's impressive figure rested upon cushions covered in silks and decorative feathers; they reek of weeks-old perfume to enhance that she was indeed an exotic flower to be plucked. Behind the burka, she was bored, her movements sparse and lethargic as she gestured to her pimp mutely to communicate.

Three men had already come and gone and tried to haggle the price, but ultimately none of them could buy her after all.

With a soft exhale, Ishtar shifted on the cushion. She wanted to rise and get a glass of water for herself, and she didn't feel like bothering her pimp about it. So she stood up once said man left and started to argue with someone by the barstools.

The flickering lights of the disco ball bathed everything with dizzying colors that she found ugly somehow. Ishtar was so caught up admiring the women on stage, however, that she forgot she was immobile for a few minutes out there in the open.

Seeing them reminded her of the rites in her temple long ago, when women would freely display what was in their power to give before jealous and terrified men came to belittle and make them forget that power.

Lost in rumination, Ishtar suddenly placed a hand across her burka as if to stifle a scream of anger that wanted to spill out of its confines. Her chest boiled with that same rage, and it made her eyes see dark spots as she stood there.

Silence has been her friend for two millenia now, but in that moment she wanted to abandon the numbing compliance of it so she could once again choose war.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

The restlessness started pooling in his gut, almost comparable to arousal though not quite. Ganesh kept scratching on the armest as well, a telling sign he itched to smoke a joint or two. But he abstained yet again, knowing that he could hardly perform when under the influence.

A drug haze, apparently, was never a good friend to his erection, and the old capo came here in hopes that there's a woman who could bring out that side of him even for just one night. Tonight was supposed to be special after all.

But, then again, if Ganesh Gaitonde wanted to simply fuck, he already had a pimp on retainer he could call. Jojo only brings in high-end whores; mostly young starlets who want to make it big in the Bollywood industry, but they would require the financial backing of, say, a crime overlord, to even land a starring role.

Ganesh had 'produced' said films before. He had one favorite, this Zorya girl, who was young enough to pass as his niece. She was strong, opinionated in a way that gets her in trouble, and it was what won him over in the first place.

It was an unspoken truth that he was always drawn to exceptional women who knew how to tame his beast.

But tonight was supposed to be special, so no, he didn't want the usual transaction of sex to tarnish the occasion. So what then? Why was he here, in the red-light district, surrounded by made-up dolls and among ever-hungry men?

His answer came to him in a flash.

Ganesh turned his head to an angle at the right time and saw her.

Dressed in fine fabric that's almost translucent, especially under these lights, the woman stood almost frozen on her spot. She has her face concealed by a decorative burka. He highly doubted it was for religious purposes, not when the rest of her was barely covered.

He stopped digging his nails onto the leather armrest and instead leaned in, with elbows upon his knees. Something in Ganesh wanted to call to this beautiful illusion to make sure she was real. But what could he say to make her turn towards him?

Suddenly he felt like nineteen again. Back then he was just a boy green behind the ears, exploring the many dangers and secret trades of Bombay. His weapons are solely his ambition and the feeling of invincibility associated with cocky adolescence.

And now, almost three decades later, here he is; just another weary king bored of the enterprises he had accumulated, of the power he could still wield due to his reputation and the reinforced violence of his subordinates. On this special night at least, he was also only a widower because on this same night twelve years ago, he had lost Subhadra.

It took losing his wife for him realize that power is useless when you have no one else to fight for.

So, what does he really have to lose?

Ganesh rose from the couch and walked towards the hooded, semi-nude woman. He held her gaze with that same unmatched intensity he used to be known for in his youth.

He leaned close to whisper into her ear:

"You probably know who I am but tonight I will give you more than just money. So take me wherever you wish, and I'll follow."

 

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

In the end, the scream did not come. Ishtar was able to keep it at bay after all with her hand cupping her throat through the disguise of the burka. She was unaware of everything else since her eyes have fluttered shut and her chin was pointed downwards.

She still could not move nor did she have any desire for it.

When she at last lifted her gaze, she met the eyes of a man she has never seen before. He wasn't a regular then, and his face and built were as common as the drab walls in the club's dressing rooms.

Most Indian men who came to this establishment had his average height, although she could tell his age in the way he carried himself.

But there was something else too.

The look in his eyes. That alone enhanced his appearance. With that kind of look, his overall gait seemed more fluid, and she can't help but be reminded of a swamp with its polluted waters and unknown depths.

It baffled her why she would envision that, so Ishtar hastily shrugged it off just in time as said man has come close to murmur right in her ear.

Pursing her lips, she waited until he disengaged so she can appraise the rest of his appearance up-close. She was still unimpressed. Neither particularly handsome nor ugly, whoever this person who fancied himself as some big-shot was hardly physically striking yet alone intimidating.

And yet...

Those eyes.

She surprised herself when she angled her body towards the direction of the club's backdoor exit.

"Come with me, sahib."

Ishtar didn't even look behind her to know for certain he was on her heels.

Once she arrived to the bolted doors, she pushed them open without any kind of urgency or difficulty. She then stepped out into the neon-dotted streets.

Ishtar still was not looking behind her and instead found herself gazing up at the sky. The former goddess smiled as she realized how stifling it had been inside and now she could just relish the caress of the night-air.

 

 

 

 

  
⇉❂⇇

 

 

Ganesh had been accustomed to the abrupt dismissal of his person solely due to first impressions. He's gotten this far mostly because his enemies made a fatal mistake of underestimating what he can achieve and how cunning he could be.

Whether it was because of his status as an orphaned son of a Brahmin priest from some shit-poor village, or his ordinary physicality of five-foot-six and slender build, the assholes never saw him as an immediate threat.

This was why he recognized the almost bored look that crossed the woman's eyes. And what telling eyes they were too! Ganesh saw intelligence in them and almost resembling that of the late Subhadra.

(He supposed he will always instinctively look for his wife in every woman he meets at this point.)

After this burka-concealed woman walked off, Ganesh turned to look at his boys and waved them off in case they thought about following him too. He didn't need their protection at the moment. Besides, with the kind of allure the woman has, he would probably risk getting shot at by any aspiring gangster out there in the streets just for the opportunity to be held in her arms as he died.

If Kanta Bai was here, she would scold and mock him for his dramatic streak. She hardly encouraged that side of him because she knew it would get him in trouble as far as business is concerned.

Ganesh never would have allowed his temperamental nature to cloud his judgment when it came to business, of course.

He stood there now by the doors which he shut close behind him. A pregnant silence followed for another moment or two as the woman looked lost in her own thoughts. She was still scantily-dressed.

Any man would have offered to keep her warm with a jacket already. Ganesh was personally sporting his favorite dark brown blazer. He hasn't moved an muscle to lend it to her, however. And he probably won't.

There was no need to impress or act like a gentleman. Ganesh is no inexperienced boy nor was he a cruel one. But she seemed to be on her element, uncaring of the temperature.

"Where are we going now?"

His inquiry was gently spoken as he approached and stopped by her side.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

Ganesh suspected as much, given how out of place she was even if she worked in one of the many sleazy clubs here in Mumbai. Something about her spelled out "foreign" and it wasn't merely because she's not Indian.

 

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

In spite of her muted demeanor and disregard for the man whom she commanded to follow her, Ishtar has not forgotten his presence.

She's also aware he wanted something from her tonight (all men always do), but he eluded her as to what it was.

This would have already been a done deal if only sex was the answer. Attuned to the desires of the flesh, Ishtar was astute enough to figure out that this man required something else from her company.

At this point she had no interest in money either, especially after he promised it wasn't just what he wanted to offer her.

No man has bothered in a while to intrigue the fallen goddess with offerings. So, for now, this nameless man has her attention.

"Am I expected to know who you are, sahib?"

She kept the burka on, flashing only her eyes at the stranger. Her fingers were intertwined in a semblance of pious shyness as well.

"You said we could go anywhere. Was I mistaken? I can take you to a favorite place of mine in Mumbai, if you'd like, sahib. Up to you."

She shook her head from side to side, a cultural gesture she had picked up over the years to communicate ambiguity.

 

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

Ganesh hardly smiled these days, which was why he didn't bother with starting now. He just fixed the left lapel of his jacket and then cast a glance across the streets.

Mumbai was still lively, even in this hour, and not just here in the red-light district. The thought of taking for a stroll with this woman was not as tempting as one would hope.

Most days his joints ache in a few places already; it was the price for his robust years during the climax of his power.

"Fine," he responded nevertheless. There was an tinge of irritation in the way he said that, "Favorite place of yours it is."

It occurred to him that they haven't even exchanged names, but who gives a fuck. If she's only feigning not recognizing him then that's her prerogative. Otherwise, he saw no reason to learn who she was either, but just another whore he would probably have on his bed later tonight.

But tonight he wanted to honor Subhadra. He could at least preserve his love for her in memory when he had failed to display it when she lived.

"We'll stop for food on the way though," he debated briefly whether or not to touch her, but decided to pocket his hands in the end, "Are you really Muslim? In any case, I know a good chicken place."

As an outspoken agnostic Hindu himself, Ganesh didn't mind a little meat in his meal here and there.

"Lead the way, _maal_."

 

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

Imperceptibly, she gritted her teeth as soon as this _chutiya_  deemed it even fit to address her 'maal' right at her face.

Ishtar had a temper. In fact, she was infamous for it in the olden days.

For the briefest moment she forgot how she was supposed to act as the pricy burka-draped Arab prostitute her pimp has always advertised, and just tore off said garment from her face.

She threw it right at this offensive man. With nostrils flared and eyes pointing daggers at him, she retorted:

"You don't even know my cost, and let me tell you something else, _sahib;_ half of Mumbai can't even afford it."

To drive home her point; that she refused to be intimidated by this small, commonplace-looking man, she stepped right in front of him until their faces were close enough that she could just whisper, "You reek of mud and self-entitlement. Not a pleasant combination for someone I'm supposed to be at awe with."

Ishtar withdrew as she pulled the burka back, "Never call me 'maal' again, _sahib_."

She busied herself in placing back her disguise with slightly trembling fingers. It was a grave mistake to expose herself like this, in more ways than one.

 

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

His gut instinct was to respond in harshness too as soon as the burka was tossed at him. The lace cloth slithered down to his neck, but some of it was still able to cover his face.

Squaring his shoulders, he almost raised his hand to slap her, and that in itself distressed him. Never once had he ever laid a hand on a woman like that, unlike some of his kind who seemed to get off on the fairer sex's pain.

And he's far too old and weary to start with that now.

Ganesh breathed through his nose and with a huff he glared right back once she's close. He couldn't even register what she looked like due to the proximity and the lack of proper lighting in this dank alley.

It was while she was fixing her burka in place that Ganesh grabbed her wrists and started pulling her to a nearby lamp post. The location allowed for people loitering in the street to brush past their figures locked in tension.

He was only a few inches taller than the woman which made it easier to use one hand to push away the burka and unveil her face for better inspection.

The truth was he already knew she was beautiful. Such pompous self-assurance in the way she handled herself earlier could only belong to someone so secure in their desirability.

It wasn't shocking to have this confirmed then. Ganesh must admit he was slightly disappointed about it.

He let her go but raised a finger warningly, "Miss," he used an English honorific now, as mockingly spoken as the way she called him 'sahib', "Be more careful in how you treat me and I will do the same."

Ganesh started walking away from her but called out, "We will eat first then you can even take me to Hell after. Don't dally now, miss."

Abruptly turning towards her once he's halfway to the next street, he urged, "Come!"

 

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

The momentary peace between them was cut short by the man's impatience. Ishtar could hardly believe he would dare to touch her so carelessly! And to drag her out into the open streets like cattle to be displayed!

No, the cows are sacred beings in this land and treated with more respect than the treatment she has received now!

"Unhand me!" she tried to wrench away, but then he was unveiling her face for his scrutiny, and the fallen goddess has half the mind to hurl spit at him. She, however, contained herself.

Tilting her chin so she could show she will never be ashamed, Ishtar waited for him to say something now that he knew what she looked like.

When he didn't, the anger worsened, this pressure rising in her gut, making her stare with wild eyes as he sauntered off.

He looked almost _bored_ of what he's seen. Was she not the most exquisite, beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on? She was the Queen of Heaven, the deity antediluvian civilizations used to pray to for victory in both love and war, and yet this man thinks he could just overlook her?!

She almost stomped her way towards him, lithe legs making big leaps as her sandals pushed back on the pavement. It was still a graceful walk.

"I will treat you only as well you treat me. Right then, sahib," she retorted once she reached him. This was when she also clasped him by the arm as if she was more his wife than another whore he'd pay.

The familiarity should be insulting for someone of his ego, she has no doubt, so she tightened her grip. Ishtar will not be treated less than the queen she truly was, even in her mortal form.

This strange, unattractive chutiya needs to see that too. Sooner rather than later, if he wished to survive this night with his life intact.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

 

Once she slipped her hand on his arm, Ganesh blinked in mild surprise and, for the first time in years, allowed himself to smile.

"Ah," was all he could say as he stood there for a few moments to drink in her closeness and the depths of revulsion in her eyes. A woman has never looked more enticing than when she's enraged. Like Durga herself.

The burka was now askew, hanging weirdly on her head. He reached to try and fix it for her.

"Sounds like a fair bargain," he didn't really wish to cover her features but what would be the point of said headdress if it wasn't worn properly? She had such nice lips, though, and a mind that isn't afraid to let itself be known.

Ganesh has always liked it when a woman talks back. He welcomed the banter, the discourse and possible conflict. Kanta Bai was wise and she made sure everyone knows it in how she speaks. And Subhadra, when she wasn't disgusing herself as a wallflower in his household, could sway his opinion not just in business but about religion.

"The chicken shop is three blocks from here," he explained to this nameless temptress, all while he still smiled and his tone soft, "We can take a shortcut in the alleys or enjoy the more scenic route."

After a small pause, he decided to add, "A beauty like yours shouldn't be hidden for long. Let's remove that burka, no? You're neither Hindu nor Muslim, I can tell. So, where do really you come from?"

 

 

 

 

✶⇢⇢

 

 

She was more than prepared to cast him aside as just another puny man led by the capriciousnesss of his ego and cock, when he flashed her a smile.

Ishtar was only taken aback because there was something unexpectedly kind if not altogether innocent in that smile. It was as if she was glimpsing the boy in the man, and that hardly ever happens these days.

Men in this era seem to forget more often the children that they used to be a lot faster than they're supposed to. They go through life in some kind of crisis of the soul in which they need to suppress all urge for open curiosity; of helpless times in tears; even the freedom of being consumed by love.

Ishtar suddenly wanted to know who this man was, not just by name but to learn his story and understand how he had intersected with her path tonight. Perhaps there is a rhyme after all to this chaos of chance encounters.

She didn't give him a prompt answer and instead led him to a direction. The streets had many loiters, especially with the kind of special commodities they sold here.

At once she noticed a few men ogle her semi-nude form. She knew one or two might approach and mistake her companion as the pimp. Ishtar would deal with that briefly once it happens.

"I've spent a great deal of years blending in this country, obeying your customs, speaking your language," she explained, "Except when I have to play the part of an Arab seductress. Foreign women are exotic to any man; for anything new than the mundane is better, they think."

Her clutch on his harm loosened even as she leaned herself against him, "As to what I am, you don't need to know nor can I wholly tell you, sahib."

She took him to an alley next and began to unfurl her burka once they're both out of sight.

"I need better robes than this if we want to avoid disruptions to our conversation, don't you think so?"

Facing him directly now without any barrier to conceal her visage, she also flashed him a smile.

"My place is not that far. I'll be quick." And then she narrowed her eyes, "You can wait outside. This is no invitation to my home. Do you understand, sahib?"

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

  
One of the advantages of his appearance is that rarely do people give him a second glance. True, at this point, Ganesh Gaitonde's reputation has spread across Mumbai and has acquired a notoriety. But those who had never interacted with him through business (or pleasure, as far as the women are concerned), will never be able to pick him from the crowd.

"You speak Hindi well enough," he remarked as he allowed himself to be led, "How long ago since you migrated? Or were you bought and sold among pleasure houses until you got here in the city?"

He was more than aware that people watched as their pair passed by, but it was not only because of her staggering scantily-clad body but also because he didn't look like the type of man who should be walking next to such a beauty.

It has been observed that Ganesh has a way to blend among his own boys who most of the time are taller and more brutish in the way they moved about and spoke. Not him though. Perhaps that's why he had taken a liking in putting on flashy shirts with unusual colors and designs. They'd prevent him from truly disappearing against walls.

He recognized the path she was taking him and glanced around as he tried to recall the last time he was here (and why only now did he glimpse this woman and not before).

"You should slip into something more comfortable if you wish," he only said.

Upon her almost antagonistic request that he never enters her abode, Ganesh grinned before shaking his head from side to side.

"I don't want to have you tonight," he admitted but then added, "Not that I never would want to. It's just that...it isn't the right time for me."

That's as far as he's willing to disclose. His shoulders tensed up when he realized he might have said too much.

"I'll wait here," he found a wall to lean on as he crossed his arms, "Surprise me, _beautiful_."

He said the English word with an exaggerated syllabication.

 

 

 

✶⇢⇢

 

 

  
"I was not traded around like a common whore," There was an edge to her tone as she explained, "I came to this country on my own volition. Everything I have done since was my choice, and that included selling my body, although I don't do it simply to survive."

She paused as she turned to meet his gaze, "Not in the way you might think, sahib."

The place she stayed in was deathly silent. It was a compound of sorts that she shared with other women although her own quarters are separate and definitely with more space. It includes a kitchen for her own use only as well as a queen-sized bed.

"Won't be long," she only managed to say next, ignoring his attempt at flirtation altogether as she disappeared inside her dwelling.

Still, when she got to her rooms, there was a smile on her lips that denoted that perhaps he had charmed her after all.

It hasn't even been an hour, but this man was such an oddity that Ishtar could not help but feel as if she could lose track of time now that she's with him.

A laughable thought, considering there was nothing about the way he looked that could make her weak in the knees.

And she was still of divine ilk, who survived two millenia and never once winced from the permeating sting of that longevity. She's had so many lovers and devouts from the past and many of them were far more superior than this aging Indian man in a tacky shirt.

So why did he continue to act and talk as if he had more to offer that she hasn't had a dozen times before?

It was equally frustrating and intriguing.

And Ishtar will figure out soon what it was he can give her, for she was still very wanton in her hungers. If not kings and warriors, she could at least sway men (and the occasional woman) of questionable repute to worship her when in bed. And this is Mumbai; a city that never runs out of shady characters who mix sex and violence in an alarming frequency.

Ishtar was never a victim of it though. She could be made a willing participant too if the kill could be offered in her name. That's the way of gods; blessings through sanctified brutalities.

She emerged in different robes about five minutes later. Ishtar had donned a salwar kameez that looked rather plain for someone of her beauty standard. It was peach in color with a yellow collar that didn't bear any of the designs that would make the fabric stand out. But the garment's tight fit on her body would at least leave a lot to the imagination.

"Shall we go to that shop you spoke of?" Ishtar has once more slipped her hand onto his arm, far too comfortable and knowing. Her long black tresses were tied in a ponytail this time; it revealed more of her youthful face.

"Maybe when we're done, I can take you to a place in Mumbai you have never been before."

 

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

 

  
While he waited for the woman whose name he still hasn't bothered to learn, Ganesh's ever watchful eyes roamed across the alley he's standing in.

A pair of old women walked past, talking in low voices. They carried empty bottles and a basket of vegetables. One of them turned towards him and, for a moment, he wondered if she recognized who he was. She most likely did, given that her stare lasted for more than a few seconds, before she just kept walking away.

The real paradox he dealt with every day is that he wanted to be a chameleon and hide in plain sight, as well as an instantly recognizable figure of authority, both in equal measure.

At last the woman was back. She had put on a kameez that complemented her skin tone and one that emphasized her curves.

"You are certainly less distracting now to the males of this city," he half-joked before offering his arm at the same time she took it.

There was a growing familiarity rising between himself and this woman, and he wasn't sure that's it's a good thing.

Ganesh led them towards the direction where the chicken place was right after they emerged from the alley. He took this time to comment about her earlier response.

"It's unheard of to me that you would volunteer so readily to a life of prostitution," he said, "Even those who chose it were still forced because they need to support their families. And what of you? What do you gain from it?"

He glanced away for a moment and spotted two of the boys from his company. Ah, so they had been trained well. It was good they still followed the capo for protection and that they at least have the courtesy to do it from afar.

"I probably shouldn't even eat chicken," he added, almost absentmindedly, just to keep up the chatter, "My late wife was a strict Hindu, and I tried to be for her after her death. And tonight..."

Ganesh caught himself rambling and stopped. He focused now on taking them to their destination. His expression may be devoid of emotion but his abrupt silence says more. If she picked up on it, she better be careful on her approach.

 

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

  
Ishtar had vowed to herself, since coming to India, that she would enjoy the little good things along the way. Long walks on evenings in Mumbai often granted her reprieve from the work she had to do the whole day.

And because she belonged to an era free of biases when it came to carnal activities of flesh, Ishtar could never perceive prostitution as the shameful and degrading act that nowadays proclaim it as. It was merely something that even in mortal form is essential to her survival.

How could she explain this to anyone? It would reveal that she's a goddess from long ago, and at this point nobody believes in the divine anymore, let alone have one walk among them as some common 'whore'.

"I gain experiences," was how she phrased it, "I'm sexually curious by nature, and I believe a woman must acquire a tantamount of experiences in that area, regardless how the world would condemn it as promiscuity or label her a harlot."

Inclining her head, she looked at him and asked, "And what of you? Clearly there is something else you wish to procure tonight aside from the obvious?"

Having this mysterious man by her arm was not as unpleasant as she originally thought it would be because of their earlier misunderstanding, and she could even see herself in bed with him too; if not tonight then in the future.

But, just as he said, there was no urgent need for copulation at the moment.

Her question was answered indirectly when the man mentioned something about his wife. A dead wife, as it seems. And that was when Ishtar understood.

"She died tonight many years ago, didn't she?"

Her voice was a whisper as the hand on his arm loosened and migrated downwards so she could gently intertwine their fingers together. She expected that he would withdraw, even lash out, but for now she will hold him and remind him that it was okay to feel lost and sad.

Some days even _she_ , the effervescent Evening Star, embraces her sadness.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

They were nearing the intersection where a variety of shops serving different preparations of food can be found. It was still thriving at this hour, the eatery mostly populated by those who sustain a nocturnal job or two (a legal profession and not, in most cases). Several food stands peppered the street corners; they stood just a few yards away from actual restaurant establishments.

At first glance, especially with a tourist's perspective, this was chaos at its finest in Mumbai, but much like everything in this city, there was a harmony in which its people had learned to embrace, in spite of the existing socio-religious tensions that engulf them.

"I used to work right there," Ganesh pointed at a building, "...back when it was a Hindu hotel, and the clientele were those from the upper caste classes only. I was nineteen and it was, shall we say, a brave new world for the kind of dreams I had as a boy."

He spoke as if he hasn't noticed that she was holding his hand now. Ganesh hoped his wasn't clammy, and that his grip was as sure as hers with no trace of childish hesitation.

But he was hardly a man who engaged in amorous displays. Even when Subhadra lived, Ganesh rarely touched her in private except when they're in bed. Sex was the easy part for any man, but intimacy will always baffle even the proudest of them. He has lost count as to how many times he laid beside his wife in those nights and wished he could connect with her in some way aside from the union of flesh.

It didn't matter now. She's dead, and Ganesh is too old to let ghosts haunt him.

So he focused on the present, with this woman who dared to touch him, possibly even in more ways than one.

"You are..." He slowed his steps so he could meet her eyes as she gazed back at him, "...a breath of fresh air. Much like the clearing of the sky after it drenched the world in rain."

Ganesh then looked off to the side and forced away the smile that was forming on his lips. At this angle, he looked almost bashful, devoid of the forty-three long years that he carried.

His grip on her hand loosened until he has withdrawn it altogether from hers.

"Ah, here we are," he strolled a few steps ahead of the woman and then turned to her once he was standing by the entrance. "We can pick a table at the farthest corner where no one will bother us."

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

She truly did expect him to lash out. Perhaps it was only because she was so accustomed to the arrogance of men over the years that she has forgotten that there was an untouched part in their psyche that can be soft and pliable under a woman's grasp once she finds it.

And Ishtar just did. This man's late wife is clearly a sore subject. Whether or not her death had been peaceful is yet to be discovered, and she was in no hurry to probe him with questions.

"A Hindu hotel, you say?" She was astute enough to pick up on the change of topic as seamless as she could manage, "I assume you are of the upper caste yourself, given that you have bodyguards around you back at the club."

She did take notice of that earlier and now she began to wonder what trade he's in and if he could truly afford her pimp's prices.

With their hands clasped together, any observer watching them would think they were a couple, a misunderstanding that she was perfectly fine with, yet not for the usual reasons.

Ishtar has had customers who did make her pose as their significant other if by chance they were found on the streets. On a few ocassions she also took lovers for her own but hardly ever displayed these boys in public to avoid any resentment and jealousy from certain clients who expected her to be somewhat monagamous in the duration of her services to them.

But with this man...

Well, she saw him as relatively harmless. Hardly attractive, his manners were at least concise and he had been nothing but straightforward with her so far. It wasn't charm that he possessed but rather intrigue. Ishtar wanted to know him and that was a rarity for a woman who has lived for too long everything and everyone has become unavoidably dull

She was just about to comment on something else when the man turned to look at her face and say something she least expected to hear.

Not that she's unfamiliar of poetic declarations thrown her way; she had been on the receiving end of fervent devotion since the beginning of time as goddess queen, not to mention flattery was common for someone of her beauty and appeal.

But this compliment seemed so random, and its innocent and earnest delivery coming from him almost made her _blush_.

She laughed instead, a hearty one that means well.

"Sahib," she remarked as she easily let his hand go, "In the short time I've known you, I had no idea you could be such a romantic."

Ishtar removed the same yellow scarf that was hanging on her left shoulder so she could wrap it around her neck and pull it up into a hood she could wear.

"Yes, that will do," she answered after his suggestion as to where they could sit inside the shop.

With another ambiguous shake of her head, she grinned and stepped forward to open he doors for herself.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

The old capo could not explain it, but it made him slightly giddy to see this woman bequeath him a smile like that.

Even after all these years, Ganesh remained self-conscious around women. He treated them fairly enough but also always kept them at a safe distance, even those whom he paid to share his bed.

Aside from his wife, Kanta Bai and the pimp Jojo, there are hardly other women he could trust. It wasn't something he wanted to seek out either, but perhaps tonight will be a night of exceptions.

"These people know me," he remarked once he trailed after her inside the shop, "I'll get us that table."

Somehow, Ganesh wanted to touch the woman again so he placed his palm on the small of her back in a gesture of guiding her along as they walked.

The manager himself has approached including three waiters who all smiled and greeted Ganesh.

It occurred to him that the woman still didn't know who he was--and he planned to keep it that way, at least for now.

"We will take that table over there," he pointed at the one close to the exit and near an open window. "Just hand us the menus and I'll call again if we need anything."

"We're very grateful to have you here again--" the manager was going to keep reciting the same grating speech of homage Ganesh was familiar with, so he cut him off.

"Yes, fine, just do what I asked."

He then led the woman to said table with his hand still on her back the entire time. A few of the patrons looked up to examine this odd pair that just came in.

Ganesh spared them no looks, but he could feel himself growing listless. He needed to be away from prying eyes and focus more on his lovely companion.

"This should be secluded enough."

He gestured for her to sit opposite him as he took the chair that would provide him vantage point of the entire establishment in case of a change in circustmances.

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

  
If Ishtar hasn't been certain before that this man she decided to spend her night with was someone important, she surely was now after the warm reception the pair of them received as soon as they entered the shop.

The man didn't seem to like the attention, however, and it occurred to Ishtar that it might be because he wanted to still keep his identity concealed from her. Why?

And then she realized that perhaps the mystery was part of the reason why their evening together has been exceptional so far.

Exceptional? Is that really the word she should use?

She was glad the man did not try and pull the chair himself to help her sit down. Such chivalry was always uncomfortable for someone of her pride. She's also glad that now she could face him on the table which should allow for an uninterrupted flow of conversation.

Ishtar picked up a menu once they were placed on their table, "What do you recommend for the food here, sahib?"

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

  
  
He hasn't looked her even as the menus were served. His eyes were fixed instead on another doorway. Ganesh could see that the two boys from earlier were now standing outside, guarding the place for protection.

That's good. Since he was in such a good mood, the old capo decided that such unwavering duty deserves a reward.

Waving a nearby waiter, he told him, "See those men? They're with me, so I want you to give them a menu and sit them somewhere on the other side of the room."

Afterwards, he focused his attention back at the woman sitting across from him.

"I recommend the wings," he remarked, "They are served in variety of flavors from wild and mild and sweet."

Smirking, Ganesh added, "Which one are you?"

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

With her eyes still fixed on the menu, Ishtar was rather distracted. She wasn't that distracted, however, to not to notice the man's first attempt to genuinely flirt with her.

She didn't look at him just yet, preferring to stir the pot for a few more moments. A tiny smile did betray her a bit before she folded the menu to gaze at him at last.

"That depends on which you could bring out."  
Carefully, she allowed the toes of her left foot to graze against his shin below the table. She could always pretend it was accidental, but she doubted that it would be convincing. There was also no need to be coy at this point.

Sitting across from him like this in a brighter lighting provided her a better view of the man's visage. He still looked average but tidy in appearance. The bizarre print and color of his shirt disguised that the fabric was actually a luxurious kind, no doubt with a known brand.

"But, if you're asking what I would choose tonight here in the menu," Ishtar's gaze fell back on the table, "I think I'll go for mild and sweet instead. I don't have a fondness for spices, to be honest."

Her foot glided upwards before she retracted it altogether.

"This is an unusual place, though. Fine dining with a selection of more appetizing meals. And yet you refer to this as if it's solely a chicken place. Clearly it has more to offer than hot wings."

Ishtar was indeed puzzled.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

"That's because it started as one of those food stands outside before my generosity uplifted it," was Ganesh's hasty explanation. His tone was standoffish the entire time, but only because he focused all of his energies in curtailing his expression.

The woman caressing his leg with her foot was very cruel, not to mention needlessly distracting. He was made of tougher stuff, however, and would never just bend to her will.

"I also personally asked them to keep their hot wings on the menu," he added, "That was the only reason I come here and nothing else. You will find..."

He leaned his elbows on the table and gazed more deeply into her eyes, "...that I'm a man of simple tastes. I require wealth only to expand my enterprises and power because, well, it is what I'm destined to have."

Ganesh's faint smile did little to undercut the ferocity of this self-belief.

"Even as a child, I knew, you see, that I was not made to be so small. I came to this city because it was the one place in India where people can thrive in dysfunction and make something everlasting for themselves."

The smile turned wistful now, "I love this city. It chipped away everything I was, so it could mold the man I'm supposed to be..." He leaned back on his chair and appraised the ceiling above, "This ugliness, the cold and the blood...they are like garbage that reeks and sticks to my pores, but the stench to me is still sweet."

Closing his eyes, he murmured, "Reminding me the stench of burning wreckage in Gopalmath where it all began."

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

She understood now that although he wasn't the most handsome of men, those deep-seated brown eyes were certainly penetrative and hypnotic.

If she were a weaker woman prone to flight and fancy, she could have gotten lost in those eyes at this moment.

His story served to illuminate now the shadows that he had cast upon himself since this evening started for them. Ishtar was immediately engrossed; it would seem that the man has a gift for weaving narrative.

Gods were born from dreams and stories. This is a singular truth that doesn't escape her, even after brutal time has bled and blurred everything that once made her divine.

She was suddenly seized by this longing for the man to touch her.

Not for carnal release but for devotion, the kind of which only mortals could bequeath their gods; the way the brokenhearted yet hopeful would kneel on an altar and clutch the feet of their idol's statue to seek answers; the way they take an animal to slay and offer it to the name of their chosen deity.

｢See me｣ she wanted to say, ｢Pray to me because I'm your mother and lover and only queen｣

But then the man said, ❛Gopalmath❜.

The movement of Ishtar's foot from under the table ceased altogether.

❛Gopalmath❜. She did not mishear. He said, ❛...where it all began.❜

Frozen in place, the chatter and crowd surrounding them did not exist anymore. There was only this table with and the bulb hanging on the ceiling that the man had been staring at, bathing his dusky face in a glow akin to the way the fire back then must have danced in his features.

She knew him now, knew him better than he himself could possibly understand, or at least not yet.

"You're Ganesh Gaitonde."

That simple utterance, the mundane naming of one man, sent shivers down Ishtar's spine. She couldn't look away, not even if she forced herself to.

 

 

  
⇉❂⇇

 

 

He couldn't put a finger on it, but it was there. It thrums almost imperceptibly, like an echo among stones. It was there in the way the woman addressed him by name.

Ganesh looked back at her to discern the expression on her face, but it was so inscrutable that she might as well have donned a burka again.

And still, he's more haunted by that surge in her voice that he could not name.

"That compound you lived in," he decided to be rid of the grim silence about to engulf them by asking, "...how long since has it been a home for you?"

It was indeed a familiar alley with its narrow buildings in a tight row together like tuna fish in cans. Ganesh had stalked that same alley and many others on a night like this twelve years ago.

If she was ever there in one of those houses, she could have been no more than a prepubescent, judging by her age now.

But he was also certain that he never spared anyone back then. He saw each face of the Muslims he had snuffed out but he could not, of course, tell any of them apart.

Still, is one of those men and women this woman's parent? Sibling?

Is that why she's looking at him the way she is now?

Ganesh remained serene as he sat there with his fingers intertwined into another, hands resting on the table.

That was until he shooed away the waiter who picked the worst moment to step forward and interrupt.

Bearing his gaze across his companion, he asked in a hushed tone, "If you know who I am, then you know what I've done."

 

 

 

✶⇢⇢

 

 

Several thoughts swirled in her mind, holding her hostage. She may be prone to wrathful outburts in the past, but the longevity of a semi-mortal existence has taught Ishtar a thing or two about prudence.

Besides, even though her mind chewed on this meaty revelation, her heart was depleted of any real emotion that she could readily act upon.

"I know only little about the things you've done," she answered, measuring her words and delivery, "It hasn't been that long since I resided in that compound at all, actually. Seven years, tops. And I mostly get taken to my clients' second houses for weeks."

Yes, she knew about Gaitonde and his reputation. His exploits in the criminal underworld coupled with his far-reaching influence and hold over a few notable political decisions, were typically what made him such a myth of a man.

As a prostitute by trade, Ishtar had arrived in Mumbai shortly after the strife between Hindus and Muslims reached a breaking point, so the details were muddled on her end exactly of what he could be referring to.

At least, that was the official story anyway.

The truth was Ishtar had lived here for more than fifty years but kept herself hidden, donning a few identities in which she would never leave a trace. She also traveled outside the city for months on end, only to come back to hear of the same tales of violence and massacere promulgated among the scared masses.

But Ishtar could never reveal that. It would expose her true age, her antiquity. And Gaitonde was the last man on earth to whom she would ever divulge such an important secret.

"Why, Gaitonde _bhai_ ," she switched her mode of address now, "Is there a history you'd care to share about the place I call my home?"

She could mean just the compound or this wretched, bloodthirsty city as a whole, and its many unfulfilled lusts and even more lost souls.

 

 

 

  
⇉❂⇇

 

 

 _Bhai_?

The sudden darkening in his gaze indicated that he did not appreciate the address. It was, after all, reserved to those who belonged to the G-company, but only among the higher ranks and with Ganesh's permission.

And it was something only uttered between men, and not by someone whom he barely knew. How ironic it was that she had a fit over being reduced as a trinket when he called her 'maal' whilst he felt just slightly diminished himself when she carelessly uttered an endearment she could never earn from him.

"Listen," he raised a finger for emphasis, "Don't lie to me. Are you lying right now? Huh?"

His tone was curt, almost harsh before he settled his hand back on the table. The expression on his face didn't relax as he added, "It is strange you only realized who I am after I mentioned the fire in Gopalmath. That was so long ago, and you would have only still been a dream in your father's balls."

The crude language spoke volumes of his wariness.

Ganesh can sense this woman was not as forthcoming as he wanted her to be, and he's not pleased in spite of civil appearances.

"You're, what, twenty-one to five? Very young in this context to have known about that fire. Unless someone told you. Am I correct?"

Without realizing it, Ganesh has reached out to clutch her right wrist, pulling her to lean towards the table's ledge. His scrutiny was laced with suspicion and impatience.

"I don't want to play games. You need to tell me what you know and your name. Clear?"

His grip tightened for a few moments before he at last withdrew. A perpetual frown was now etched on his face.

 

 

 

✶⇢⇢

 

  
Her bangles chimed before their contour dug against the wood as soon as Ganesh Gaitonde grabbed her wrist in a grating attempt to subdue her somehow.

Ishtar just stared back at him, unwavering even as the rage stirred unpleasantly in her gut. Her lips almost twisted into a sneer but she was able to curtail it at the last second.

She did not want to feed more fuel to fire, for that was precisely what this man promised in his own eyes. It was a look that sealed for her that this was indeed the man who conquered Bombay and then singlehandedly massacred eighty Muslims in their sleep many years later.

Ganesh Gaitonde. Lord of the Garbage Dumps of Gopalmath. And The Avenger of impoverished Hindus, as he was hailed in hushed whispers by old men and women whose children were slain because of religious strife.

He had his hands on every vice and crime in this city in the last twenty-five or so years. It was no wonder he thought that it could also be the case with any woman he believed he could control.

Well, he hasn't met Ishtar then. If he had, he would have realized that even the god of his own namesake would think twice before he'd cross blades with the antediluvian diety of love and war who had often caused natural disasters on cities herself if she found a man look or touch her the wrong way.

It was precisely this 'commonality' between them that kept her own temper from flaring to battle with his.

"Sahib," she spoke in a low, almost reproachful tone right after Ganesh released her wrist, "I have struck a nerve, haven't I?"

It was hardly because she called him with such a familiar term of address, she knew that much at least.

Calmly, Ishtar lowered the scarf from concealing her head. The light made her black tresses shine, giving them an almost blue tinge.

"I heard the story from an older woman who used to live in the compound shortly after I arrived. She described to us the Burning of Gopalmath with such vivid poetry that it left me under a spell."

She smiled, obviously baiting him.

"And you may call me Ina," she added as an afterthought. It was the name she had been using recently anyway, "It's very nice to meet you."

Ganesh Gaitonde. A man bequeathed with such a sacred name would obviously not live in piety. He was not meant to be small, he had just told her.

｢Well, sahib, let's see if you could measure up to me then｣

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

  
  
He wasn't exactly expecting fear to appear in the woman's features.

After all, Ganesh didn't have the physique to invoke fear, but he wouldn't have been able to lead the most successful criminal enterprise in Mumbai if his subordinates weren't afraid of him, and the root of that went beyond the surface level.

Those who don't even know what he looks like can only rely on the news they have heard about the deeds and crimes he himself committed or others have executed in his name.

And it was through this reputation that he became a bogeyman.

This woman knew who he was by now, but she was not afraid. Those eyes (arguably her best feature) don't lie. Ganesh didn't want her to be scared of him, honestly, so he was relieved that she still had that spunk once she answered and finally revealed her name.

Or alias. He could somehow tell 'Ina' was not the name she was christened with at birth. It didn't matter.

You can be anyone in Mumbai.

"What did this friend of yours say about Gopalmath then?" Ganesh will not deny that he was intrigued with her phrasing. He was not a man of extreme vanity, but a healthy ego was another component that got him to where he was.

Right now he wanted it somewhat stroked. He missed receiving such attention from a woman who's worth more than he could ever anticipate.

Ganesh gestured at his boys who were sitting about four tables away. One of them approached and, without being prompted, handed the capo with a small velvet case.

With his eyes still fixed on her, Ganesh opened it and took out a rolled joint. The boy lit it for him before Ganesh dismissed him.

"Spin me the tale, Ina."

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

It was apparent that he figured out she had adapted an alias, and that it was exactly what she just used to introduce herself with.

There were a few more unspoken things that lingered between them, but Ishtar would rather doom them in silence completely than the alternative.

As irresistible as he was becoming the more this night unfolds, Ganesh Gaitonde still remains not only a stranger, but a dangerous thug. Crime and corruption paved way to his kingdom in the garbage dumps of the old Bombay, and Ishtar had not once felt an inkling of sympathy for low-lives like him but nor was she truly repulsed.

Everyone's has to make a living, even fallen deities.

She could still the recall the last time she revealed her true identity to a mortal. The year was 1954. Ishtar was vulnerable back then, which made her foolish. It was fortunate that she wasn't exposed to the public, but only because she took the extreme measure to ensure her secret was once again safe.

She will not make the same mistake twice.

"There was a series of events that led to that moment, she said," Ishtar kept her eyes fixed on the man before her as she scrutinized every miniscule detail of his expression.

"A man has a booming business by allocating and selling salvageable items from Bombay's garbage disposal area found in Gopalmath. He owned every scavenger in the city. It had been that way for six years. And then there was this...young _chutiya_..."

A ghost of a smile appeared in her lips a she used that term to refer to a young, strapping Gaitonde.

"...who dared challenged the man's position because he had enough gold to buy off the lands where the garbage sites were. He was accosted in a bar one night, my friend said, a firm warning not to mess with the status quo."

She paused only to slowly remove the scarf from her shoulders, placing it on the table before she went on, "He didn't give a shit. This challenger gathered three trucks filled with gasoline tanks. He used them all up for the lands where the mountains of garbage are found. It was said that he lit the first match and then watched from a safe distance as everything was engulfed in flames."

Ishtar interlaced her fingers together as she leaned forward using her elbows.

"The fire smoke wafted throughout the homes and the buildings of Bombay. It was a dirty cloud that lasted for a day and a half. On that night when it all burned, Gopalmath was vibrant, my friend said. Orange and yellow and red against the dark skies above. The toxic air was hard to breathe in, but Ganesh Gaitonde was there for almost the entirety of it."

Her hands loosening, she used one to place on top of his own, the thumb and forefinger brushing across the skin.

"In the morning, everyone knew that he was not going to stop at Gopalmath. And you didn't, did you?"

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

He allowed the joint to perch between his lips for a while as he used a hand to gesture towards the waiter. Without a word exchanged, the capo merely grazed the menu with the tip of his forefinger, indicating the items he wanted brought.

It was while Ina began narrating the secondhand account that he finally touched the joint so he could take a ceremonious first puff. He turned his cheek slightly to the right so he could exhale the smoke right out of the open window.

He never once tried to interrupt her. Eyes hooded, he was content to just taste the weed upon his tongue and gums whilst he listened to the beguiling narrative Ina revealed. When he exhaled the second time, he even forgot to turn to the side altogether.

The haze of the smoke framed her beautiful features next, its wisps even reaching her head, crowning it. Both of them seemed to be too lost in the story that eveything else was white noise. Ganesh also recognized that she was trying to analyze his countenance, but all he ever gave her back was an almost blank, drug-addled stare.

He still wouldn't react outwardly until she touched him. The old capo's eyes shifted down to observe her fingers massaging a spot on his hand; the soft space between his own thumb and forefinger.

In response, Ganesh enfolded her hand onto his and used said thumb to press at the center of her palm. The pressure was as firm as it was suggestive, indicating it was not an absentminded gesture but rather one that's filled with intent.

"This city..." He used his free hand to remove the joint from his mouth, the slender thing now dangling between two fingers as he leaned that arm on the table.

"...was always supposed to be mine," he added as he looked across Ina with a self-assured smirk, "And I always go after what I want regardless of the obstacles. Maybe it's the fact that my very name demands it."

Ganesh lifted the joint so he could take another hit. This time he took his time savoring the burning weed between his lips, inhaling more than exhaling. He then placed the joint on top of the velvet case for a while.

Without warning, he used his grip on Ina's hand to bring her closer, dragging her by the elbow until she understood what was needed from her. His other hand would have also held her still by the back of her head. It was then that Ganesh leaned forward until they were both half-risen from their chairs.

Their lips almost touched as the old capo exhaled the smoke right into her parted lips. He stared right at her as this exchange of drug-infused air occurred. Ganesh wasn't even sure why he did it; all he knew was that he wanted to.

It would have been so easy to kiss her too.

But then he just let her go, as if nothing crucial happened, and sunk back to his chair.

He fixed his eyes on the light above, captivated by how it swayed and flickered.

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

From under the table, Ishtar crossed her legs, revealing that the salwar kameez she wore has a slit on the right leg. But no one else could gaze openly upon her exposed thigh, considering Gaitonde chose this table on a secluded spot.

She was almost disappointed. The truth of the matter was that even in small doses, the fallen goddess sought the lusts of men. To be gazed at with adoration was all that they could give her now. Gone were the days they'd kill in her name, for her sake.

And this was how Ishtar began to starve, and it had been a hard famine indeed.

"It's blasphemous though, don't you think?" she retorted after his last statement, "...to equate yourself with a god? That must have gotten you in trouble frequently, especially with your position."

Her eyes drifted next to their fingers probing one another.

It was not rare for men to still touch her with intent on occasion, particularly her rich clientele. But it rarely occurred outside the bedroom. In fact, some of them learned that she's not something to possess even if they could afford her price for a few nights. That meant they treated her rather coldly once the transaction has been completed.

But Ganesh Gaitonde obviously desired something else. Any man wants sex and so does he, but there was something about the way he looked at her since this night started which invoked a different breed of lust entirely.

A deity of her experience should know already, but Ishtar was still scrambling to figure it out.

"You know, sahib--"

Her words were cut short when Gaitonde pulled her close until their faces were mere inches from one another. She did not know how to react or interpret any of this. The taste of the drug wafting from his mouth to hers made her choke for a few seconds before she abruptly pulled away to wave at the offensive smoke crowding her breathing space.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, though she was only slightly livid, "That was uncalled for. I do not care for the vice!"

She grabbed the elbow of a waiter passing by, "I need a glass of water, please."

And then Ishtar glared back at Gaitonde, all while she wiped her lips with the scarf. She then cited, "You're a funny little man. Is this the type of thing you consider a foreplay?"

 

 

 

  
⇉❂⇇

 

 

  
And Ganesh just laughed.

The woman said a few notable things before that transference, which he chose to respond to now as he finished his joint with a last few puffs.

"Blasphemy would imply I actually had faith in the gods of this filthy country," he inhaled then released some of the smoke through his nose, making his throat burn more intensely, "It's my father's religion, and I despised that weak man. Many weak men also hide behind gods. They cannibalize one another in the name of purity and goodness."

He paused thoughtfully as his eyes flickered towards a nearby portrait from the other table. It was an abstract painting of Durga, depicting her amidst a consuming battle with a horde of demons. Something about that image reminded him of the two women he had only loved.

"I dabbled on it once," he crushed the butt of his joint on the table's surface, uncaring of the ash that spilled.

"People think I did the cleansing years ago because of some religious inclination. True, the Hindu in me was awakaned that night, but my motivation for it was much simpler; even very commonplace."

Ganesh ran a hand through his dark locks, the strands on his temples graying on the edges.

It was then that the waiter stopped by to hand over the glass of water and the plates of wings as well as assorted vegetables. The waiter smiled nervously then left.

"I did it for vengeance," Ganesh said with a tone of finality, "My wife was the one who believed in the gods, and look how they had forsaken her that night."

He shot Ina a forboding look, "Look at any of us who dared believe something bigger watches over and judges our deeds fairly. But there is no karma or nirvana. Just this life and the grime you scrape out day after day until your hands are bleeding and your time has come."

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

  
Her eyebrows knitted together in a contemplative repose. She dabbed her lips with the scarf a few more times before she lowered it to her lap. It could not be helped; the man continued to be a compelling specimen. In just a short span of time, Ishtar has seen more layers to him than she would have expected.

There was the shy recluse who obviously did not have much experience with women when it came to simple affection; the egomaniac who wanted to prove that his namesake alone was proof of his destiny; the paternal figure who was accustomed to people bending to his will; and now this unremorseful avenger--the one who only knew love the moment it was snatched away.

"You're too harsh on the gods," was all she said at first. Her lips remained pursed as she reached for a warm wet towel offered as part of the table setting.

After wiping her hands with it, she then picked a chicken wing to put on her plate and start eating later.

"But clearly not as harsh as you are to yourself," she added and then began to take a long sip of the water so she could replenish her throat and buy time before she could comment again.

"I take it your wife has been slain during a confrontation among the Muslims and Hindus years ago? Or..."

Ishtar lowered her voice, "...was she targeted because she was your spouse?"

It was a delicate line she's treading, but she was gifted when it came to walking a tightrope.

Who better tackle this matter than Ishtar?

 

 

  
⇉❂⇇

 

 

  
"It wasn't really the conflict between these two factions that claimed her life," he answered in a resolute tone, "It was Suleiman Isa's goons intruding into my territory to resolve unfinished business."

The old capo wiped his hands with the towel too and then pushed the velvet case to the side, saying, "Gods are not real anyway. Ghosts are."

Surprisingly, it came rather easily to talk about Subhadra as if the eve of her death anniversary in the last twelve years ached no longer, let alone tonight.

In fact, Ganesh just wanted to get it over with. He did not wish to dwell on haunted places anymore. His survival largely depended on running towards something, regardless that the destination is unknown. Coming home was the last thing he needed, even if it led to his late wife's bed, or Cuckoo's dressing room--even his mother's embrace.

These women were all dead. And here he lived to carry the wounds they burrowed into his heart that hardly healed.

"She got caught in the crossfire. One moment she was on the bed, trying not to make a sound," he took a chicken wing, tear it to the bone and then chowed down a piece, "...and the next..." he chewed for a bit, eyes blank while he stared at Ina, "...she was bleeding from a gunshot to her stomach."

Ganesh used a serving spoon to scoop the vegetables. He gnawed on a carrot and some lettuce for a whole minute or so.

"Love is a murderous asshole," he concluded, still looking at his plate without acknowledging the woman sitting across him again. At least for now.

 

 

 

✶⇢⇢

 

  
Ishtar was earnest in her patient listening of the old don's soliloquy that on the surface seemed devoid of sentiment. She can never be fooled by his cavalier tone, so attuned she was to men's auras in general.

History could attest to Ishtar's endless knowledge of mankind's greatest wishes, and though she no longer had the power to grant them, it was still in her being to seek out their prayers.

"It still must have been such a blow, to lose a woman you valued to senseless slaughter," she said while tapping her fingers on the glass of water, "...and you make love sound like her killer when it was not."

Her comments were spoken in a measured tone, which veiled her own invested interest in his story. "I won't push you to go on if you'd rather speak of other things, sahib."

What did strike her as strange was his outright declaration earlier that gods are not real. She recalled the nineties when Gaitonde has presented himself as a Hindu devout who made several, long-standing religious donations. Now, she supposed it could strictly be a political move; a ploy to further himself in his business and exploits.

But then she also remembered reading his interviews, and how she felt the passion and anger in each punctuated phrase he uttered regarding his faith.

Who was this man sitting across her? Made up of jumbled contradictions, he certainly did not live up to how he presented himself to the media.

"You claimed you are atheistic," she approached this next matter as cautiously as possible, "But I've known about you mostly through the things I've read in old newspapers, back when I was still starting here in Mumbai. I thought...well, I was under the impression that you are a devout."

She took a sip then stared at the food on her plate, realizing she didn't have the appetite to dine at the moment.

"Or perhaps I misunderstand. Faith is often as personal as it is indefinable."

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

He was in the middle of enjoying his food when Ina made astute inquiries regarding his public persona, the one he had embraced in the wake of Subhadra's death. Of course his feigned religiosity years ago would be called into question, considering the tactless truths he has revealed to her just now.

Nevertheless he was hardly self-conscious about his deception, for there are many sides to him and the stories he had told that even he at times could not keep up with. At this point he will never apologize for the man he had become.

Ganesh used the towel to wipe the grease from his mouth next before casually glancing at the nearby tables, saying, "I don't mind. Talking like this is good for the soul. And you prove to be smarter than most whores."

Their spot remained as secluded as he wanted, but he still had to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Old newspapers, huh?" He shot her a sly glance afterwards, "Good to know you have done your research while you worked in the city."

The old capo scooped more vegetables but this time he placed them on her empty plate. He did not expect her to protest so he went on, "But surely you know by now that what the media reports is still affected by outside influence..."

He took his own glass of water but didn't drink from it just yet, "...particularly by those who finance these outlets in the first place. Free speech is an illusion in cities like Mumbai. Truth is a subjective reality--from what journalists spew out to what the police submit in their reports."

Ganesh leaned against his chair and allowed his eyes to drift upwards, "The facts can change depending on where the pendulum of wealth and power swayed."

There was an interval of silence or two before he stared back at Ina again, citing, "Hinduism was my wife's religion and, to honor her, I tried to throw myself at the mercy of her gods. I thought for a time that to be religious like her meant I can somehow preserve who she was even though she no longer lived."

He chuckled, eyes fluttering shut, "A paltry attempt for a lifeline."

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

  
She barely batted an eye when he used the term "whore" loosely to refer to her person. At this point she was fine looking pass through the derogatory meaning of such an address; it was flimsy at best and will never capture what she remains at her very core.

Ishtar chose to focus on the tiny revelations that more or less allowed her a glimpse inside the man's tortured psyche. His philosophy about the caprices of power was something she could appreciate. With her current standing as a relic of a glorious past, Ishtar knew exactly just how fickle that pendulum does swing.

"You're a man with a few tricks of your own to trade..." she trailed off only because she got distracted with the fact that he had taken it upon himself to feed her by putting things on her own plate.

It was curiously fatherly more than anything, but she decided to ignore and go on instead, "...and you had an illustrious career of notoriety. Some police and media are in your retainer too, aren't they? But then again it's the way this world works; mutual back-scratching."

Ishtar picked up her fork and sliced through the lettuce and mango so they were bite-sized the moment she ate a piece.

She finished chewing first before adding, "I have to ask; what do you really want to do with me tonight, sahib? You propositioned me earlier without the promise of money. Is it merely your company that I have to be compensated with?"

But then Gaitonde began to reveal something deeply personal about his late wife, which effectively caused her to cease talking.

It didn't last that long and she soon found herself placing a hand on top of his own.

"What humans can aspire for--what we all should aspire for is not a life without pain, but one that's lived well. And being alive comes with its inevitable portion of such pain."

Squeezing his hand once before withdrawing, Ishtar tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with the other.

"There is no running away from life, and trying to wish away suffering only makes it more present."

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

  
His mouth itched for another joint. Now that the hunger of his belly had been appeased, he needed a stronger remedy for the seige of this ailment that was far too close to his heart, clogging the ventricles.

Being touched by this woman again was beginning to get under his skin. There was a maternal warmth to her that made it nearly impossible to see her again as anything but a sexual object.

The more she spoke her views frankly and asked piercing questions, the more she was transforming into the younger version of Kanta Bai, which is humorous.

He would laugh, if only the comparison didn't unsettle him too.

No, Ina was also like Cuckoo in some respect, but Ganesh was not even sure if he wants to fuck her some time in the near future anymore. He's acquired a taste for young virgins, and Ina did not possess that bankable innocence and inexperience that Jojo's own whores usually brought to his doorstep.

"Kind words," was his only response as he watched her through half-lidded eyes.

Ganesh leaned forward to the table and took her hand for himself this time.

"If I buy you off from your pimp and make you my official in-house woman," he said, "How much do you reckon he would let you go for? Because I meant what I said that I will offer you more than money and luxury."

Holding her hand while this proposition was going on seemed rather sketchy. Any third party might assume they were even lovers because of how they're speaking in hushed tones, as if they're spilling heartfelt declarations.

And so Ganesh withdrew away now too, looking slightly annoyed about that foolish possibility.

"I enjoy you, Ina, or whoever you really are," he decided to admit. "You seemed educated. Maybe you came from a good family in the Middle East and just decided to travel abroad for your own gain. I don't care to learn your story. I won't interrogate you about it. Fair bargain, no?"

He entwined his fingers together as he bared his cards on the table., "So, with that in mind, I ask you again: what's the price of your freedom?"

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

She alternated between staring at his face and upon their clasped hands before he pulled away. The heat of his skin on her own admittedly made her tingle, mostly because she can sense the musk of his lust for her finally bubbling up to the surface.

There was still a tinge of that other indecipherable want, of course, but at this point Ishtar will set it aside.

The silence that followed after his proposition was deafening, even to her own ears. She perfectly understood what he had said, but something inside her refused to give an answer just yet because the uncertainty on her part was heavier than she could have anticipated.

And it wasn't as if she hasn't received such attention since she came to Mumbai. Her most regular clients strived to buy her off. The excuse her pimp gave time and time again was that none could really meet the price, but the truth was Ishtar simply didn't want to be owned by one man (or woman) only.

She was adamant about this rule. Soon enough, maybe another ten years from now, she may have to migrate again to keep suspicions from rising. After all, she never ages, and if people decades ago haven't noticed it because she was concealed for a time, they certainly would be alerted to it now.

"Ina" has built quite the reputation for herself. And now Ganesh Gaitonde wants her to become his 'in-house woman', as he phrased it.

"You know, sahib," she piped up at last, "I'm truly surprised that it had taken us this long to meet."

There is a dangerous allure in becoming this notorious don's official bed companion. Ishtar was highly  _tempted_. The smirk placating her fine features can attest to that.

"I will talk to saab," she meant her pimp. "You can come back to the club some time tomorrow to speak to him yourself. Whenever's convenient, Gaitonde-ji."

The change of address again rolled easily from her tongue.

And as she reached for his hand, the fingers tenderly slipped across his wrist instead, with the thumb massaging him on the pulse.

"But how sure are you that I'll be worth the purchase when you have yet to sample me?"

Her tone was hushed yet rife with invitation.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

A softening around Ganesh's eyes became apparent as soon as Ina pointed out how bizarre it truly was that they have never met until this extraordinary night. He didn't outright agree with her and instead busied himself finishing the rest of his meal.

The capo gestured at a waiter and told him to pack up what was left of the food on the table since his companion obviously had no interest in dining. He also instructed that the to-go food will be carried by his men by the door.

This was confirmed when Ina took his hand then caressed his wrist with probing fingers. She didn't even bother being subtle about this.

He cocked an eyebrow once before he grabbed the velvet case next to him so he could pocket it.

"Fine," was his curt response.

From under the table, he rubbed his foot against her ankle, reminiscent of her own playful gesture earlier at dinner.

"Take me to that favorite place of yours."

He rose from his chair abruptly and pulled his wrist away from her grasp. Ganesh didn't bother with the bill since he already has an outstanding account open at this restaurant. He just gestured once at the two new recruits guarding the entrance, who looked like they have just finished eating themselves.

One of them stood up to approach Ganesh and the two men shared a brief exchange regarding what comes after.

Afterwards, he tapped Ina by the shoulder, "Come. If you prove to be as good in your trade as you are in conversation, then I should be getting my money's worth for the long haul."

He adjusted the sleeves of his leather jacket and went ahead without waiting for her. A few curious eyes followed after him, but Ganesh didn't look at any of them.

He just stepped out of the place once and for all. Outside, the capo took out another rolled joint from his case and let it perch between his lips.

 

 

  
✶⇢⇢

 

 

Beneath the smile Ishtar readily flashed as Gaitonde stood up to take his leave first, there were also small traces of confusion and annoyance.

He didn't seem that eager to bed her at all, which is hardly something she ever had to deal with. Her 'trade', as he put it, depends largely on her desirability. It was the very essence of her power--this weaponized sex appeal.

Ishtar didn't immediately follow after Gaitonde and, when she finally decided to stroll out, she even took her time. She glided the path leading to the other tables, making sure she was not only seen by the men, but that they would also be unable to tear away their gazes from her.

Once satisfied and made secure by the whispers that dwelled in these men's loins she hastily absorbed, Ishtar joined Gaitonde by his side.

"I know you think you know this city very well," she remarked, "But there are still aspects to Mumbai that even the king of Gopalmath has yet to see."

She cupped the side of his cheek loosely, with the tips of her fingers just grazing his skin, "You're weary, maybe even battered by the circumstances of your past in which you kept losing grip of what was real and what should never be."

Ishtar leaned closer and allowed for both hands to frame his face. The years truly had not been the kindest to Ganesh Gaitonde. She knows he was only approaching middle age and yet the more she looked, the more it becomes clear that he was older, almost withering, inside.

A life in constant pursuit of greed and violence add more lifetimes on your face like that. And to be godless in a country founded on the fervor of the faithful, a blasphemous criminal like Gaitonde had learned to dig himself a hole somewhere in his mind that he won't climb back out, not when darkness proved to be an ally which helped him thrive.

This brittle man with his swamp-infested eyes and ready finger on a trigger--Ishtar can make a believer out of him yet.

Playfully, she snatched the joint from his lips and placed it upon her own instead.

"Say goodbye to the ghosts and come to me," she clasped his hand next and stepped forward in a direction. Each hurried step is still measured, and she would once in a while look over her shoulder towards him.

She was like a dotting mother, leading him to where it could begin anew for him again.

 

 

 

⇉❂⇇

 

 

The woman was surely taking her time back inside the restaurant, but this short reprieve at least left Ganesh to contemplate about tonight's events. It had been a rewarding one so far.

He was actually thankful that he asked the mysterious courtesan to keep him company.

Back in his youth, he had never considered that a woman can offer more than the easy convenience of warming his bed until he met three women in Mumbai who helped him shape the man he had become.

Kanta Bai gave wise counsel without smothering him with her opinions. He trusted her with his business and his men. He would even take a bullet for her.

Cuckoo was his muse, the only one who lit him on fire each time they danced and kissed. She was meant to slip between his fingers though, as ethereal as the stars that explode from light years away.

And then there was Subhadra. She grounded him, convinced him that humanity is not about just the greed and the malice. There is something in each of us that aspires for the divine, and perhaps it was why she perished too soon, so eager for nirvana.

Ganesh was woken up from his reverie when he felt Ina's warm palms around his face, roaming with such familiarity that it almost made him wince.

A fine speech, this 'whore' spews out, but it brought a smile to his lips nevertheless. He may not wholly believe her promises, for Ganesh Gaitonde only believes in his own words and deeds, but he gripped her hand in silence and walked forward to wherever she wished to take them.

He watched the curve of her back, the thick mane of dark hair concealing her nape. His eyes traced the smooth shoulder and the wrist she had extended towards him, and felt the confident grasp of her fingers as they enclosed his.

When she turned around once, the rolled joint perched haphazardly between her lips caught his eye. He imagined the tip smoldering now, saw the tendrils climb up the air, burning gold.

And it reminded him that everyone is a phantom among dancing flames. People burn to crisp once the fire swathes them; oh, but at least the embers will twinkle, defiantly, before the snuff.

 

 

 

  
Ｅｎｄ ｏｆ Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ Ｏｎｅ

 

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Inset - Baghdad

 

 

 

 

 

 

▬๑⟨※⟩๑▬

 

1954, Bᴀɢʜᴅᴀᴅ

 

 

 

 

Olethros was late, and this displeased her more than she could ever bother to conceal. They had not seen each other for too many eras past, and certainly not since he recused himself from the duties of his realm.

Disappointment over his haste decision lingered like an aftertaste in the gums, and yet she stood by him anyway as his ever loyal consort and almost-wife.

Now, nearly a century later of slow unwinding; of many canceled rendezvous and unopened correspondence by mail, Ishtar still hoped that he at least never forgot what they had. 

(How can he? She was of divinity and he was of the Endless; a love like that was far more rare than the undiscovered mysteries of the ocean).

The restaurant and bar they agreed to meet in was very crowded, alive in ways she hasn’t felt in ages. She chose a spot at the barstools where she’s certain no one can interrupt her solitude, so weary she was of entertaining men who desire to warm her bed but never learn her name.

It was why she kept her eyes mostly on the empty martini glass as she faced the shelves of liquor on the opposite side.

Her chin rested upon the palm of her left hand which exposed the bangles she wore around that wrist. Some were encrusted with jewels while the rest were made of gold. They tinkled each time she gestured at the bartender for another refill. 

It was now her fourth glass.

The expression on her face, meanwhile, was exceptionally morose, though this sourness did nothing to tarnish the elegance of her finely shaped eyebrows, aquiline nose, and full lips that bore the shade of charcoal red. 

No words could ever describe her eyes, however. None will suffice.

She was arresting, regardless of time and place; the kind of beauty that poets can never pen and artists could neither capture in brush nor clay. 

But at least a dance might do her justice—like the sonorous notes in a tribal procession, with its aggressive heavy bass punctuating each sway of hips.

Ishtar has not danced like that in a long time, almost as long as Olethros' absence from human affairs and their chaos.

The man was reaching a point when he’s no longer fashionably late, and she emphasized this by almost slamming the glass upon the ledge while she prepared to leave. It was enough of a gesture of protestation for the three men who lurked nearby to take this as their cue to approach. 

By their sallow skin, tailored suits and whiskey breath, she could surmise that they must be Americans. Tourists come here all the time, but their type always made themselves known like peacocks with their mating tails fanning out.

Ishtar would have laughed. Did they think her departure from the stools was an invitation? She was hardly even drunk, but the way these men swarmed around her, you would think they want to sweep her off the floor and carry her all the way back to a room so they can at last take turns enjoying her body.

She could feel that desire boil right from the pulse of their necks, simmering under the guise of their well-groomed appearances. Ishtar intimately knew the lusts of mortal men. She did not have to endure them like most powerless women do in her position, no, but rather she demanded such worship and devoured it with gusto. 

Tonight was different though. She came here to meet an old flame and not waste time dallying with undercooked cuisine which this trio of middle-aged men simply were to a starving goddess of old.

They accosted her with disingenuous promises of a ‘good time', and when they could not coax her with pretty words they resorted to money next. Obviously, they had mistaken her for a whore, which Ishtar often went by whenever she visited establishments like this one so it was to no fault of their own to bear those presumptions.

“We got blow upstairs too, little honey,” one of them who was massaging a spot on her spine whispered into her ear, “And not the cheap kind too, mind. A special cut. It has a kick that would make you feel like you’re almost immortal.”

He kneaded her skin through the fabric of her dress as if he’s trying to touch her somewhere else more delicate. 

It took all her self-restraint not to burst out laughing right there and then. She should have, but instead, she responded in all graciousness, “And why would I be interested with ‘almost’ immortality?”

｢I was a god, you small-minded pest. I was a god who could make cities tremble from Euphrates to Tigris during very bad moods｣

Another one was getting handsy as well, using his grip on her shoulder to maneuver the rest of her body to whatever direction he wanted to command. He said, “Don’t be shy now. And you can even tell your pimp that he’ll get a higher interest if he'd let all of us take you for—say how many hours can we go for, boys?”

The last one, who looked more like a voyeur than a participant, answered, “Two hours should just about do it, Danny.”

And Danny's grip on her shoulder tightened while his other companion—the one who was rubbing her back—now slipped his hand to cup her by the buttocks.

She was far too bored of this unsurprising turn of events that she barely flinched from the contact, but nor did her feet move from the spot. 

Ishtar may no longer have temples and devouts, but a goddess was still a force to be reckoned with. It would have been so easy to compel the men to cut off their own tongues yet she resisted.

Just as she contemplated this punishment, her eyes flickered towards the entrance. A smile spread across her lips then, and in a flash she looked young and kind again.

“Speaking of whom,” Ishtar spoke and nodded towards the glass doors, “There he is right now. So why don’t you ask him?”

Olethros looked just about the same. Almost seven feet tall, he had to bend his head just to pass through the doors’ threshold. The first thing that stood out about him aside from his height was his vibrant fire-kissed hair, which he wore  in a slick ponytail at the moment.

Once he spotted her among unpleasant company, he strolled towards the barstools with the gait of a man who knows his way through the world. Everybody in the restaurant ogled at him in open curiosity, especially the men beside Ishtar. The only reason he didn’t look as threatening as the rest of his muscled bulk implied was because of that goofy grin he also had on.

It brimmed with a warmth no one would expect from this mammoth of a male, since he resembled heroes from old paintings, the ones who battled monsters and vanquished evil mages.

The very sight and memory of him from that forgotten time made Ishtar's heart flutter. Funny, she didn’t know it could still do that. But she supposed Olethros will always have that effect on her regardless of the many things left unsaid between them.

“Hi, gents!” Cordial as ever, he reached to shake a hand from all of them. Danny tried to look like he wasn’t intimidated even as the other two took a step back. Their bodies instinctively recognized the alpha among the pack, Ishtar mused, as she chuckled this time.

“Listen,” Danny explained as confidently as he could manage, “We were just asking the miss here about her services. How much do you charge for a night?”

The situation was not lost to Olethros, but he pretended like this was nothing salacious by responding with, “Let’s head to the balcony. We can watch the stars. I’ve loved stargazing since—well, since there were stars! Do you know they’re alive? As alive as anything that is perpetually exploding light years away from Earth, that is.”

He was already pushing the three males towards the balcony before any of them could even think about getting away. Given Olethros' physique and winning personality, it wasn’t as if they ever stood a chance turning down the offer of such a man.

The balcony was located at the farthest west corner, which served more as an exterior lounge that clients can spend some time in for the sake of leisure. There were four couches that occupied each side, shaped like clam shells. It was a serene set-up  ideal for something more private and away from prying eyes. Ishtar has thought about inviting Olethros here at first when she saw it, but a tiny part of her dreaded it would be too intimate, and that was the last thing she wanted.

But here they are anyway.

It was only after Olethros half-shoved the other men into the chilly night that he added, “Oh, and the lady is not for sale, fellas. I know you’re hard pressed to believe it, but not everything is, or should be.”

Danny tried to stand up for himself and his friends by declaring, “Then that just won’t do, don’t it? Now, sir, we have no quarrel with you—”

“You aren’t looking at the stars, Daniel Mason,” Olethros span the smaller man around so he was facing the balcony. With a booming yet cheery voice, he added, “You two, look at the sky! Come on!”

Handsy pervert and impotent voyeur had no other choice but to do what was asked. They were shaking slightly, which Ishtar found hilarious as she leaned there against a wall to bear witness.

“Hold on a sec! How did you even know my name?”

But the large, imposing man ignored his question.

“See? Stars! Like I was saying, they’re always in a state of chaos, on the brink of a death so final in which they become an endless vacuum of blackness. But humans only ever get to glimpse the beauty of their twinkling lights from where we stand now, gentlemen.”

Still sounding as chipper as ever, Olethros wrapped his beefy arms around the three and lifted them an inch or two from the floor. In his embrace, they collectively looked like petrified birds put inside a cage.

“And so you write songs and poems for these heavenly bodies without fully understanding the meaning behind what you see—only how they make you feel…” he looked at Ishtar this time.

“... I think it’s the most admirable quality of mankind, no? That no matter how many plagues and massacres and wars they waged and endured, they still find inspiration to create again, even if it’s from something that was destroyed.”

Sniffing and holding onto Danny and the two other men, Olethros shook them a bit, “I love you lot. So. Damn. Much. You don’t always accept liability, true, but jolly gee, you’re dreamers and innovators!”

“Let us go…please?” the voyeur looked like he was near tears, so confused and afraid he was of this giant stranger suffocating them with a hug.

“Who else could look at a frightening storm drowning everyone in its path, or a conflagration eating trees and animals like—and think they were acts of a god?”

“Let us go, you weird fucking asshole!”

But Olethros never loosened his hold. He laughed and kissed the top of the men's head first. It was so discombobulating in its maternal warmth. He mercifully let them back down the ground seconds later. Once they were released, they don’t even bother with goodbyes and scrambled back to the restaurant. 

Pushing herself off the wall, Ishtar waved in a queenly manner towards the men.

And then she flipped them off with a middle finger once they’ve gone.

Her attention soon turned to her punctual companion. The relaxed disposition Olethros had now given way to something more tense, as the air around them became charged with an electricity in which they were the conductors.

He took measly steps forward. That was saying something, since he had the overall manner of a man who knew how to take and influence others just by the sheer gravity of his charms. But Ishtar's presence, combined with the unwavering dignity of her silence, was enough to turn him meek, a lamb. 

“You look well, my love,” he remarked, the tone rather shy.

“Love?” she choked a laugh, as her eyes that were once dusk now became a piercing, arctic blue, “You hadn’t loved me enough to keep in touch, had you? But I digress. Winning my affections should be the least of your concerns right now, Olethros. This is hardly a social call.”

“Then why did you ask to meet me?” he crossed his burly arms together. The man wasn’t even trying to hide his disappointment that this was something other than a pair of lovers catching up.

“I should ask you that first,” she touched a strand of hair that has come loose from her bun. The bright red shawl she wore has also slipped a few inches, “I’ve tried to send for you many times over the long centuries—”

“Four. There had only been four.”

“And that wasn’t enough?” Even when frowning, Ishtar still looked stunning. “So, what changed? Why heed my request this time?”

Olethros regarded the goddess with a sympathetic gaze. She could tell that it was precisely what that was, and she can’t decide whether his pity angered or shamed her more.

“Because,” he took a sweeping step forward and gently tucked a thick finger under her chin, “I know that Durga and the rest of them have granted you a home right after your temples fell and Uruk and the rest of the city-states were no longer.”

He paused to lift her chin so he can admire her mortal manifestation; she's had it for so long she doesn’t even remember what her real face looked like. Under the scrutiny of her former lover, she can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“Look at you even, Astarte. This face and identity you have adapted is that of a Brahmin girl. So why have you traveled here in an Islamic land, my love? And Baghdad, of all places?”

“I have unfinished business,” she said tersely, resisting the urge to push his hand away, “And besides, I only came because I discovered that there’s a small group of followers in this city who still pray to my name.”

Now Olethros was intrigued by this revelation that’s startling in its own way. He stopped touching her and glanced at the sky and the brilliance of its stars.  

Meanwhile, Ishtar chose a couch to sit on. She smoothed the wrinkles of her sari as soon as she crossed her legs.

To his credit, the man didn’t immediately ask for more information about these followers and instead opted to learn more about her living situation in general.

“The last fifteen years had been a transformative experience for everyone in that region,” he spoke with deft understanding that since he left his realm, chaos has become even more rampant than it had to be. 

The Indian Independence movement as well as the Partition served as two of the most recent haunting examples. 

Ishtar had been there for a lot of the struggle that occurred. Even the gods of both pantheons could not broker a truce between one another, not while their followers are mad with fanatic lust and vengeful thirst. As for herself, she came from a very old civilization with more straightforward rituals, and so the ongoing changes in the climate of how faith is passed down from one generation to the next admittedly made her anxious and cynical.

She disapproved of the terrible lengths these two religions tried to obliterate one another, the breaking point of which was during the Partition. To her, gods of neighboring lands should learn to co-exist and make their devouts do the same. The kingdoms of Two Rivers, Valley and Nile had done so for centuries.

｢The world was young then｣ Ganesha interjected one day when she aired out these concerns, ｢And so are we. But as humans continue to populate and prosper, the gods they believe in also flourish and grow stronger along with them｣

‘And you call this prosperous?’ Ishtar wanted to get angry. She knew how to get angry before, but Ganesha was right. They were old and the world will only keep growing up before their weary eyes. 

If she still had power now, she would have at least saved the women of India and Pakistan. That was the one thing that haunted her to this day.

A tension in her shoulders made her lean back against the clam-shell couch, craning her neck as far as it would go until the sky was all she can see. Nothing about the stars and their deceptive shining lights amazed her. Olethros was right to say they were either dead or dying.

She knew firsthand the paradox of such an existence.

In another time, in a place where the female is recognized as an equal ideal to the male, Ishtar’s role as Queen of Heaven was the realization of that truth. A goddess of both love and war, she was everything to her people. Mighty kings and their ambitious wives with armies at their command beckoned her to bless what they had—from copulation to labor to conquest.

If Ishtar still reigned as a supreme goddess (and the Sumerian empire still thrived), she could have done something for the women abducted and raped during the Partition, regardless whether they were Sikh, Hindu or Muslim. 

Durga scoffed at her when she made a mistake of disclosing her feelings on the matter. 

｢That is not the god in you speaking, Anat, but the human｣

The other goddess respected her well enough, but Ishtar could also tell that Durga was beginning to dismiss her relevance as a deity. 

If their positions were switched, Ishtar knew she would have been just as snobbish. Durga was everything Ishtar used to be, and that’s how they became fast friends when she first arrived to the subcontinent. But now the very same thing that brought them together had driven a wedge. 

They've begun to talk less and less. Their last conversation was something Ishtar will never forget.

｢You are becoming more earth-bound because of this flesh you must live with｣ Durga reached out to rub a thumb on Ishtar’s forehead where the black bindi she herself had applied long ago as part of a ceremony remained etched on her friend's skin.

｢…but unless you want to turn mortal, you should not dare dwell on such frothy sentiments｣

Durga pulled away, sneering slightly as she stared. It was if they ceased to be two equals in that moment.

With an exhale, the Hindu goddess looked away first, citing ｢Only humans have the privilege of questioning their place in creation. And that’s why they need us｣

Ishtar didn’t want to share these morose contemplation with Olethros at the moment. It would be pointless to blame him for any of it too, especially since she profusely supported his decision to retire. Even if she had known the ripples it would create throughout human history, Ishtar still would have stood by Olethros because love abides. 

Sitting here among the stars with him  should have been romantic, but regret and resentment remained, this unwanted sillage polluting the breathing space they share.

Choosing to avoid the subject altogether concerning the conflicts she witnessed in India was not easy, so she did say at least, “In the last three years, I’ve been traveling in and out of the country after what happened...” Ishtar fixed her hair and shawl, “And though I do consider India as my permanent residence, I still needed the time away. And I was called to Baghdad quite suddenly.”

“How long ago?”

“Six months ago.”

Closing her eyes, Ishtar placed a palm over her chest. A serene smile was on her lips now too.

“They’ve been praying to me.”

It had been so long since anyone made an altar in her name and asked for her blessing. 

When she opened her eyes again, Olethros looked at her rather sadly, mainly because he understood how much it meant. The man had knelt on his haunches by the floor instead of on the couch next to her. He wouldn’t have fitted anyway, not with his girth.

“What have you been doing in Baghdad?” He inquired. This position has allowed him to level their gazes upon one another. “I assume you haven’t met these followers you speak of? Otherwise, you would be there with them right now.”

Ishtar was somewhat defensive in her response: “I can’t reveal myself to these people even if they do possess the faith. As for what I’ve been doing so far, I merely work as a companion to the elite. It’s financially substantial, as far as earning my keep goes.”

It was a fancy (if not euphemistic) way, to characterize that she was an expensive prostitute. Not that Olethros would even judge. 

Certain human taboos and prejudices were never something they cared for although Ishtar herself has to contend co-existing with such restrictions if she ever wanted to survive living in anonymity as an Indian woman in a society rife with religious and political tensions, both back in South Asia and here in the Arab states.

“But I know that sooner or later I should answer their prayers,” her gaze flickered downwards to observe her hands, “…and the more fervent they pray to me, the more I feel myself becoming whole. There’s a covenant that exists between any god and the faithful, and it is known as the Old Way, sacred and binding.”

“So that’s why I'm here,” Olethros peered into her eyes to seek the truth in them that's far more earnest than anything she could say, “You want another shot at real divinity again, don’t you? And this small group you spoke of—they’re just a starting point.”

“The other gods have turned blind and deaf. And none of them cares about the women who cry most of all.”

“Not you, of course.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “I could still hear them along the borders that separate India and Pakistan, calling to gods I know will never grant them respite or vengeance.”

“So you left because you couldn’t do anything.”

“I was so powerless. And I don’t want to be anymore.”

Olethros has gone quiet. This lasted for several moments before he asked, “You want to start a new religion. In your name, like the olden days.”

The smile that Ishtar bestowed her former love has a tinge of bitterness she even felt in her bones.

“You know me very well,” was all she said. Before he can even stop herself, her hands framed his face with the palms grazing against his well-kept beard, caressing it. 

She should have kissed him right then. She had missed his taste and his laughter and the eternity they could have had. But, most of all, she missed who she had been; the powerful, most supreme goddess queen who more than earned the love of one of the Endless, Destruction—her precious Olethros.

Still, Ishtar withdrew her hands. She had to let him go now.

If Olethros could abandon his realm and live off his unending existence free of his obligations, then so should she pursue her own path towards the one place she will always belong.

Not in any man's arms for either love or lust—not among other deities who pitied or diminished her worth—but back at the top with a throne which awaits for her to claim.

She rose to her feet, mindful that Olethros was doing the same beside her. He was a tower which she climbed long ago, taller than any of the skyscrapers Baghdad has to offer. And so Ishtar was not fearful of what was out there tonight and how steep the heights she had to reach for many days to come.

It would take a century and even more, she knew, so from this point forward she will no longer squander her eternity.

“Come,” she walked forward before glancing once at Olethros still standing behind her.

The blue in her eyes was no longer cold, not while she smiled like that at him.

“Let us find them together. Let us meet these men and women who still worship me in the last place they should. For what is a god, really, without believers?”

 

 

 

 

* * *


	3. Coal of Heart

* * *

 

  
ín whích mσrє єхtrασrdínαrч thíngs вєtwєєn αn σld gσddєss αnd α wєαrч gαnglσrd wíll σnlч вє fσrgєd вч undєrgσíng αn ímmєnsє tríαl σf fírє. 

 

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

 

Her very gait spelled confidence, punctuated by the swing of her hips. The tight bodice of the salwar kameez clung to her, increasing the warmth of her body especially in this Mumbai climate. It was a pleasant type of warmth now at least, for the air in the evenings could be gentle too, much like tonight.

The head-scarf she was dressed in earlier is now draped around her arms like a shawl, the yellow a faded shade, which attested to how long she must have had it. Someone of Ishtar's famed beauty and trade had purchased more elegant wear than this, but modesty was a quality she believed Ganesh Gaitonde enjoyed in a woman.

It was far too short of an acquaintance that she has made with him, but she could read him far easily now, especially after what he divulged. The stories about the Gopalmath fire, his wife slained by a stray bullet, and his lingering atheism in spite of the public image he has put out there, have filled Ishtar with more burning curiosity for the man in question.

She still held his hand while the other played with the blunt perched between her lips. For a few seconds she began to gnaw at it, tasting the wicked flavor of the drugs. Ishtar still did not care for the vice, but it didn't mean she can't ever be convinced for a smoke later.

The night was far too young and there was more time to try new things.

"Have you traveled this path before, Gaitonde-ji?"

She glanced over her shoulder without meeting his eyes and then continued to gaze forward, guided only by the memory of the last time she was here.

"Not many men come by this passage, and you can even say only the women dwell in the cracks."

The cracks, as she put it, were composed of cramped alleyways where only one person at a time can fit through. The air was damp and cold and the mosquitoes buzzed around them, but other than that it feels more welcoming than the usual unknown territory, unaccounted for in the official maps in the city.

It was why the nameless and obscure gather in these cracks. They all clamored for anonymity and got it here.

She released his hand momentarily so she can squeeze in, angling her body to the side to allow more room for her girth. Gaitonde should find himself doing the same.

Once she stepped out into the bright clearing of a deserted street, Ishtar gazed up, smiling at the star-studded sky that greeted her.

"We are going to climb that hill," she pointed, "See? That's where you and I can best conduct our business."

She could not deny that her excitement grows for it. Slaking her hunger of the flesh at the moment with this man should be a delight.

Turning to him again, she asked, "Shall we? It's just a short distance. You know I can make the journey worth it."

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

It wasn't like him to let his guard down, but at the moment Ina's charms persisted, and since he was still a man of flesh and blood, he didn't feel like resisting. 

"I'm familiar with this part of the city," he admitted next, "But no, I have not explored it. Perhaps my boys had already tackled this route during errands. This is still my territory after all."

He followed her lead once their hands separated. Built more slender than most men his age, Ganesh had no qualms making himself scarce as he squeezed into the narrow gaps of the dank alley.

The objective for this evening was very clear, and he grew restless for the completion of it. When Ganesh decided he would purchase Ina to be a permanent companion, he knew that mainly involved sexual favors. But she was more to him than that too.

Ganesh had Zorya already on a regular weekly to montly basis for that very purpose, as well as a few more new blood whom Jojo often lets him sample first before her other clients could.

And so he wanted Ina to be of a different arrangement than that; to function more than just a pair of legs he can slide his torso between and fuck.

Tonight he would have to do just that though, for the sake of formalizing it before real money will be exchanged.

"That hill looks ominous," he observed, "You aren't planning to lure me into a trap up there, are you? I wouldn't put it past my enemies if they hire you as bait. Points for creativity."

There's a playful tug on his lips as he stated this, and that smile was half-boastful, half-questioning. 

"Let's get going then."

Ganesh grabbed Ina's hand again and guided the way this time. If he were to face death tonight, he would at least meet it on his own terms and without cowering behind a woman.

"If you really have no problem conducting business in the dark and against a tree, then I don't see why we can't wrap this up soon."

He paused. And then, "You got a rubber with you? Expensive girls usually do."

Ganesh asked because he had an unforgettable experience with unsafe sex years before, and he'd rather not go to town again like that. Too painful, too gross.

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

 

"That's a dark thought," Ishtar responded with an eyebrow raised, "But not far-fetched either. You and Suleiman Isa are still at odds with another, from what I've heard."

She knew that Gaitonde's nemesis has left India for good but nevertheless conducts businesses overseas that have ties with the smaller gangs here in Gopalmath. She was aware only because one of her more regular clients last year was a henchman who liked to talk about his work after sex. 

Ishtar will not tell Gaitonde about this, because she prided herself for her ability to hoard men's secrets without spilling them.

"Slow down," she tugged at the capo's hand. The purpose in his gait was impressive but he hardly even knew the best way to climb the hill, so it was a little foolish of him to lead.

"There's a track of flat surfaces on this side," she pulled him now to said direction. Once she got them there, she climbed the first step. Her sandals were sturdy enough to keep herself balanced whilst she helped him up.

"I do have contraceptives with me," Ishtar reassured him, "Saab and I also talked about getting me surgical implantation...the one they call IUD. Are you familiar?"

There was a time that Ishtar is immune to procreation with man, being of divine ilk. But she's becoming more mortal every century, so her body has begun to show signs of said reproductive possibility. It could happen to deities like her at this point. The less worship and remembrance they get, the closer they become to humankind.

She climbed up the hill in silence now, lost in her own melancholic reverie. Her hand remained clasped around his, and she released it only after they reached the summit.

A large tree served as a canopy for them, its endless leaves a tapestry that hid the stars above.

"Shall we?" Ishtar waited for Gaitonde to make the first move. She would undress for him if he asked, but there was a small part of her that hoped he'd rather peel off her clothes for himself.

The thought of his hands on her body did excite her. It's time to see if the man can deliver enough passion which Ishtar can absorb as worship--worship to prolong her youth and vitality.

Slowly, she removed her shawl and hung it by a lower branch. She then straightened her back to allow him appraisal of her body. A smile radiated from her lips as her eyes beckoned him to say what's on his mind.

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

 

At the mere mention of Suleiman Isa's name, the expression on the old capo's face darkened. He didn't want his spirits to get dampened all of a sudden because of that asshole, so he simply shrugged it off and focused on Ina. 

She was beautiful in a way that could make any man ache to touch. Her resolute will can be felt in how she grasped his hand, and the wit bubbling from her every spoken word revealed a discerning mind that can hold her end on conversations.

For tonight, Gaitonde decided he liked her. Trusting her was another thing. To mention Suleiman Isa here in this very isolated parts of Mumbai was almost like casting a curse, and the idea of being assassinated right now has crossed his mind once more.

It was hardly a foreign concept, given his many brushes of death in the past and the outright police brutality he was even subjected to recently at the hands of Parulkar and his goons.

That remembrance was enough to make his stomach turn that he almost wanted to turn back and leave.

But then Ina was coaxing him once more to open up, to shed his inhibitions and doubts just so they could spend a heated moment of recklessness. The outline and shape of her body looked somehow better like that in her salwar kameez than the translucent material she wore back in the club. 

The mystique of her presence was heightened especially under the tree. She looked like a mythical creature lost in stories never told anymore.

She was young, but not too young. Gaitonde was beginning to think she was more in her early thirties than late twenties. No blemish or wrinkle on her facial skin told him that but rather it was that wordly look in her dark eyes.

They were the eyes of someone who understood the ways of men and the consequences of her trade--and didn't give a damn.

"How long have you been doing this?" He found himself asking even though he did not wish to hear a real answer, "With how many men?"

Gaitonde slipped from his leather jacket and broke eye contact to look down at it. A thought crossed his mind.

"Here," he handed it to Ina, "Put this on later. But first, take off the kameez."

For a second there he sounded like he was fumbling, until he remembered his age and his history and all the things he could never gain back. It lent him steel as he added:

"How about a dance? Can you do that?"

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
She was used to this line of questioning in which her clients would often ask about her work history. There were a few reasons they'd inquire. Sometimes they simply want to understand what they could be up against as far as experiences go. Other times they were suspicious or insecure about something. 

Men can say a lot about who they are solely on the questions they utter. 

Ishtar didn't answer just yet and watched Gaitonde with a fleeting look of amusement that changed into something more inviting the moment he began removing his jacket.

"Does it matter to you how long and how many since this moment?" she at last responded, all while undoing the top of her salwar kameez, "You have nothing to measure up to. I always consider every man or woman I sleep with as someone new with a lot to offer."

She only paused momentarily in her undressing after he handed his jacket. By then she has pulled down the kameez to expose her chest. Ishtar has put on a simple flesh-colored brassier that complemented the dusky tone of her skin.

"So you want to take me up against a tree, is that it?" she took the jacket and then began to put it on. She didn't bother to lift her long ponytail so that it was hidden inside the jacket itself.

"I have one request though," she remarked as she waited for him to come close. Ishtar has purposely left her kameez undone only at the top, implying that he had to do the rest for himself. She knew Gaitonde has the patience for it; he only needed to learn and start seeing this as more than just a transaction.

Once he had approached, Ishtar would place her arms around his shoulder blades, with the sleeves of the jacket hanging a little loosely on her wrists.

"I want you to take me like this," she mumured, "...face-to-face where I can see you and you can see me."

She leaned and whispered right into the shell of his left ear, "Only then will you really appreciate how I dance. Count on it."

As a small demonstration, Ishtar raised a leg as she slowly parted her thighs to make room for him to press his groin directly against her own. Her ankle would slide upwards his calf until she locked said leg around his hip bone.

 

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

  
Ganesh pressed his thumb under his chin and brushed the forefinger across his lips. He looked like in deep contemplation as he appraised Ina's body. The excitement rose at the pit of his stomach at the realization he could have her now--out in the open with only the stars as witness.

But he missed Subhadra still. Perhaps he could think of her whilst embedded inside another woman. It wouldn't be the first now, would it?

He listened to Ina's answers with a skeptic stance. She's being ambiguous either to keep the mystery going or because there was much need to keep the confidentiality of her customers. A consummate professional, this one. At least she can be counted on never to spill secrets.

Somehow Ganesh already knew that her discretion was a guarantee.

"Fine, be like that," he replied with a teasing edge on his tone, "I don't really care either way as long as you're clean and that from now on you only commit yourself to me once I buy you off."

The old capo raised an eyebrow as he found himself closing the distance between their bodies, intrigued by this so-called request. Once she revealed it, however, the amusement was fleetingly replaced by annoyance before it reverted back to the former again.

"You want to be romanced?" He stayed steady while she wrapped a leg on his hip, "There is nothing really romantic about fucking against a tree with mosquitoes buzzing around though."

To humor her at least, Ganesh used a hand to brush across her cheek before it lowered to pull at her pony tail so he can undo it. His other hand slid to position her raised leg more firmly. He stroke her hair, fingers massaging the scalp in a soothing way that's almost paternal affection.

He would touch Zoya this way too but often when she had fallen asleep and unaware of it the next morning.

Ganesh wondered if he should kiss Ina. Those lips were tantalizing to look at up close like this after all. But then he removed his hand from her thigh so it could roam around her form, as if in search for something.

"Ah!" He said as he retrieved his roll of joint somewhere in her person.

"Take a hit of this with me," he told her, not expecting a refusal this time around. He pulled slightly away to pat his jeans for the matchbox. He left his zippo with the boys.

"Here..." He made Ina take the joint between her lips and then he busied himself lighting a match. The sound of the tip scraping on the side of the box was almost ritualistic. 

And then there was the yellow glow of the flame as the match hovered mere inches away from the woman's lips where the blunt is perched.

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
She leaned her head towards his hand but still also kept herself from appearing too desperate for his touch. Humming, she fluttered her eyes shut and then placed her hands upon his chest to splay the fingers on his shirt.

When she felt his hand touch her chest and abdomen, she let out a soft exhale, content to be stroked like that in other places...

...that was until it became obvious he was simply looking for his drugs that she placed inside the small pocket on the bottom part of her kameez.

Half-disappointed, Ishtar allowed for the man to place the joint between her lips. It still repulsed her to indulge in such a vice, but if it leads to other more enjoyable things then so be it.

It baffled her that he could resist her this long. Any man would have ravaged Ishtar already especially when she's pressed against a tree like this, as willing and compliant as she will ever be.

Gaitonde had impressive restraint for someone who was had been dubbed a vengeful killer years ago. 

He ordered so many hits, some of which he carried himself, and the ocean of bloodshed between his G-company and that of Suleiman Isa's was a whispered legend among aspiring men who want to be recruited on either side even for just small-time gigs.

It still takes her a moment to wrap her head around the fact that this was truly the same menace Muslim women even to this day still spat and cursed at for killing their fathers and sons. The 'Hindu bhai of Gopalmath' as he's also known. 

The fact that Gaitonde opened up that he's an atheist masquerading as a devout was certainly worth considering, but Ishtar was weary tonight and desired only for the heat of a man's body to rejuvenate her millennium-old bones.

This capo would do. He wasn't the best looking man but he had a quality to him that made him command attention, a discerning mind and an iron will in spite of the underlying exhaustion in the way he talked and behaved. 

Once the joint was lit, Ishtar would take a small ceremonious puff and watch the tip ablaze. She will blow the smoke right into his face next, ensuring to purse her lips so that the tendrils will come out in a languid fashion.

With two fingers she took out the joint from her mouth and moved it away from view to the right side.

She watched Gaitonde through half-lidded eyes with the mist lingering between them.

"Why do you delay this?" she sounded almost demanding, "What are you waiting for? A sign from your dead wife? Were you like this with the other whores? I don't think so."

Ishtar was goading him, trying to get a rise. Gaitonde has a murderous streak to him, even though age has mellowed him out. She would like to see it--the fierce Hindu bhai who was insatiable in his quest to conquer all of Bombay years ago.

That was the man she wanted to fuck tonight. Not this sad excuse of an old man in his flashy shirt and drug-hazed mind, acting like he's some fumbling virgin.

"You're starting to bore me, Gaitonde-ji," she added while poking him on his chest with a finger like it was the barrel of a gun and she was about to pull the trigger.

 

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

The smoke enhanced the woman's mystique instantly as he saw her features now through the obscurity. She seemed comfortable enough when she took a puff, yet he can sense that she was merely humoring him until the eventual business they need to start conducting, so to speak.

Ganesh was already growing into the mood so his hand dipped lower in order to remove the thigh wrapped around his hip and then pull down the kameez further to expose more skin.

She was warm and so was he and for the first time in weeks he didn't think about the pending end of his reign. He stopped thinking about the possibility of dissent in the ranks of the young recruits who had the same thirst and ambition that drove Ganesh to kill Salim Kaka, his predecessor, from years ago.

Most of all, he can forget about his paranoia over Suleiman Isa coming back to Mumbai to finish off their rivalry once and for all. That reprieve would be a blessing. 

Because tonight there was only this: a fresh joint and a beautiful woman to savor in equal measure, and the leaves knitted above them along with the stars they seem to protect.

He leaned in to capture Ina's mouth for a kiss that he hoped could restore youth. But then she was saying ugly things. She was bringing up what he had been attempting to suppress. 

This was a kind of betrayal he did not expect.

Breathing through his nose, the old capo's grip on her kameez tightened. His voice was low, a warning, reeking of poison and dark promise.

He said, "Do you want me to fuck you like a knife tearing into your womb? To leave your fruit bloody and rotten for no man to pluck ever again?"

He was so very furious. Why, why did she have to be cruel if all she wanted was a little roughness from him? There was hardly any middle ground for a man like Ganesh Gaitonde. 

There was only hot or cold. Love or indifference. Worship or disintegration. 

To drive home his point, his other hand snatched her neck to pull her forcibly against him. Their noses collided as his breath was all over her lips.

"Don't piss me off just to get kinky sex. You're better than that cheap ploy. I can tell you have as much scars as you have experiences. So don't play games."

He released her only because the desire to choke her dead got stronger.

Pulling away, Ganesh glared at Ina until he could burn holes into her pretty face.

A second or two passed. And then another. With his heartbeat loud against his ears, the old capo began unbuttoning and zipping down his pants, all while his fingers still trembled from the rage and shame in his heart.

Just as he was ready to reveal himself to this impatient, infuriating woman, he heard the unmistakable sound of his own men rushing and calling out his name in unison.

"Bhai!" They shouted, as one took out his revolver, eyes wide.

This one said, "We need to go. Isa's men. We spotted them earlier. They're on their way here!"

The other was already climbing the hill to help his boss down, "Quickly, bhai!"

Zipping up hastily, Ganesh grabbed Ina by the wrist. He may have hated her seconds ago, but he didn't want her blood on his hands. Not again.

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
She could sense it growing more deftly now within Gaitonde, and her body immediately responded as she ceased leaning against the trunk behind her in favor of pressing closer to him instead.

Ishtar had not planned on seducing him at all when this evening began. She really did think that he was just an intriguing little man who promised to give her an unforgettable time, but one she doubted could be delivered.

And to take him up on his offer was nothing more than a passing fancy in which she tried to cure her boredom with.

It proved to be the right course of action.

He is the infamous Ganesh Gaitonde after all. Not only that, but he wanted to make a kept woman out of the fallen goddess. That offer was indeed enticing, which was why she took him to this uncharted territory to give them privacy so they can fully explore what each of them can give the other.

Ishtar has become rather impatient with the way he kept beating around the bush, however. It pleased her then that the injurious comments she spouted at him have accomplished their goal at once. She had not meant to wound his ego, but his lethargy was so grating. 

At last, the slayer and ganglord emerged from within the cage, and the violence in his eyes and speech afterwards was palpable. The goddess felt its heat coursing through the way he gripped at her kameez before he tried to choke her next. 

Ishtar almost smiled as every fiber in her being welcomed it. This was exactly what she waiting for. The core between her legs swelled in anticipation for the bruality he could inflict upon her unbreakable vessel during the claiming.

And she would absorb everything and make it her own. Human worship keeps gods alive, and a deity of raw sexuality like Ishtar needed to be sustained by the consistent lust of men and even women at her wake.

While Gaitonde unzipped, she was also pulling down the rest of her kameez. The pressure has build up and now more than ever the hungry goddess was eager to claim her prize. She doesn't want soft kisses from this killer. She wanted to be bruised and abused and worshiped again in the process.

She had just kicked the rest of her clothes to the side, ready to strut towards the man so she can melt in his embrace, when their union was rudely interrupted by his bodyguards.

A protest made its way to her mouth but before she can unleash it, Gaitonde pulled at her arm to supposedly rescue her from the impeding carnage.

"Stop that! Don't run away from your enemies!" She dug her heels on the ground and fought him every step of the way, "I do not want to be safe. I don't need whatever conceited protection you wish to give me!"

Ishtar was aware she was only in her undergarments, with her kameez and shawl abandoned back in the tree. The night-air grazed her exposed flesh but she did not feel cold at all. In fact, it amplified the heat rising from her belly.

"Listen!" She grabbed hold of his shirt to get his attention, "Leave me here."

The excitement in her voice could not be held back as she elaborated, "I will engage them for a bit, and trust me, I have the ability to make them forget what they even came here for."

Ishtar was asking Gaitonde to consent to her plan out of formality. She would still go about it otherwise. It was rare to change the mind of a goddess who was famed not only for her divine impact on lovers but also upon warriors.

"While they're distracted with me, you and your boys can ambush them. It will work, Gaitonde-ji!" She wrenched free from his grasp only so she could cup his cheeks in fervent persuasion.

"Have some faith, for once in your corrupted little life!"

 

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

  
The imminent threat to his life took precedence over everything at the moment, so Ganesh really did not appreciate Ina acting out like this which only caused to slow down their supposed escape.

It wouldn't have been wrong to lash out either. The woman was being hysterical and ridiculous! But he also didn't even have the time to scold her because Ganesh could already hear the Suleiman Isa's men scampering through the tightly knitted passages of this forgotten part of Mumbai.

He had seized her clothes at once earlier and threw them for her to put on, but she ignored her state of undress which was disconcerting. Has she lost her mind? Ina was still in her delicates, and it was an unsuitable state to be in, given with what was about to occur if the other men catch up to them.

Properly dressed or not, she had been half-dragged by Ganesh across the slope so the four of them can slip through the woods and wait it out during the search. There was no way of getting back to those passages without a fight.

Ganesh knew that the only exit strategy was to exchange blows. Bloodshed, once again, was the inevitable answer. For now, however, they must conceal themselves among the trees.

But here was mad, impossible Ina, declaring that she could stall them. In her underwear. 

"Stupid bitch!" He almost clawed at both her wrists as he kept dragging her. They were almost near the woods.

"Now is not the time to think like a whore and oversell yourself!" His words were harsh and cutting in a way he didn't want it to be, but it was necessary to slap some sense into her.

Letting go of one arm, he fumbled for the pistol in his waist band so he could ultimately save her life by threatening to kill her first.

He was not hearing any of her goddamn excuses.

"Bhai! Quickly!" One of his boys shouted as the other pointed the gun forward to anticipate any attacks. "There's a small wheat field ahead that would be good for hiding. Bring your woman there!"

"Come on! For fuck's sake, Ina!"

Ganesh could just leave her. Why not? She's a nuisance at this point. But he simply could not let another woman's blood be spilled on his behalf. 

And so, while still ignoring her protests, he swooped her from her feet to carry her away. He had the presence of mind to grab her shawl at least, which was the only piece of fabric that could cover her for now. 

"Shut the fuck up and let this play out my way!" He demanded and began to run after his boys.

Sweat trickled down his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. The added weight of the woman in his arms and his fatigue have made it a very laborious escape.

 

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
She meant what she had said.

Ishtar did not need his permission. She was going back to that spot on the hill where Gaitonde's would-be assassins can see her. A goddess will not cower behind leaves or wheat just to wait it out with the rest of them like sitting ducks. 

Did he not understand that the only way out was to vanquish his foes? Surely he did, so why bother with the pointless ceremony of concealment when a more aggressive attack is needed?

As far as she's concerned, he should be grateful she even volunteered herself as bait. No, she will serve more as a secret weapon than mere trap.

He doesn't see. Of course he won't. To him, she's just Ina, the pretty Arab whore he wanted to keep in his compound to act as sounding board and bed companion. 

Gaitonde could not know about the wars in early history that she had waged and won; of the battles fought in her name that led to victorious and prosperous eras of rule for certain kings who worshipped her fanatically.

And so Ishtar would have to make this small-time ganglord understand.

She let him carry her off for at least a full minute before she retaliated.

Like a viper, she twisted her body from his grasp. It was as if she was suddenly boneless. The shift in her position was brutal and on-point. Within seconds she had wrapped her thighs around his neck then used the shawl to obscure his vision. She then used the same momentum so that she can twist him like a marionette until he was forced down to his knees, driven there by her weight.

She would then roll their bodies around to reverse the position so she would be hovering upon him.

The impact would bruise yet she would still cushion the full blow of that to avoid inflicting serious injury. She only wished to get his attention and not kill him after all.

"I am not what you so easily dismiss as!" Her voice came out sharper than she intended. The adrenaline and slow-curling rage have blended together in her veins, leaving her exposed as the warrior she truly was.

"I can fight them, if it must be done, but I'd rather show you that even without force, I can enslave them, even make them betray their leader."

With their faces only mere inches away, Ishtar clutched at the two ends of the shawl that was still wrapped around his neck, all while she sat atop him. She had Gaitonde land on his back moments ago, with her knees digging against the dirt on either side of his hips.

"Which do you want me to be?" She murmured in a tone almost as seductive as the flame that engulfed her coal eyes. 

"Distraction or executioner?"

 

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

  
A lot of things have occurred at once. 

Ganesh only remembered running and breathing hard due to the woman in his arms. One of his boys was right in front of him, guiding them towards the wheat field which he could see was already within reach.

Meanwhile, the other bodyguard was behind him, his gun still pointed at the direction of the oncoming assailants at their tail.

The moment was rife with enough suspense that would make his heart fall out of his ass, but Ganesh had more steel to him in spite of age and fatigue. And so he knows that he will find some way to rise victorious from this confrontation, no matter the cost.

But then the world literally took a continental shift. He couldn't see anything all of a sudden and the next thing he knew he was lying on the ground among the twigs and grass. Ganesh was able to process everything long enough to figure out that it was /Ina/ who put him there.

That was fortunate because he also sensed that his boys have both pointed their pistols at her, ready to pull the trigger. In haste, he tried to lift his hands, but he was subdued by the rest of the woman's weight.

So he just shouted, "Don't shoot! Don't!"

"Bhai, she's one of them!"

Ganesh hissed and tried to crane his head to the direction of the boy and scold him, "She's with me, /gaandu/! Aim that gun back to that direction!"

He finally looked at Ina again. 

Mad, impossibly deadly /mader chod/ Ina.

Something clicked when he said her name in his head. Lessons from his Brahmin priest of a father came flooding back, of the storybooks he used to read, some of them in Urdu and Farsi which his father translated for him as a bedtime story.

"Inanna," he half-whispered as a smile cut through the panic and the anxiety he felt while he lay there at her mercy and once again a prisoner of the tides of fate.

"I just remembered the name of a goddess close to the name you go by."

He laughed brokenly and then tried to rise to a sitting position as he dug his elbows into the dirt under him.

"But you're no divinity. You're a savage," he found enough strength to try and shove her off while a hand grabbed at the shawl she had used on his throat, "But then again the old gods were brutes as well. The Pandava brothers are sons of gods and they were the most savage /gudda/ ever deemed as heroes."

He clutched her left wrist, the fingers sliding against her bangles until he found her skin to sink his nails into.

"Show me then, this savage beast you are all along!" Ganesh let go of the shawl so he could forcibly pull at her hair instead.

"Give them hell, you rabid /dagaar/ and away with you!"

He pushed her from him with all the strength he has left. It should send her toppling back to land on her own ass. Ganesh struggled to get up next, breathless and feeling sore all over.

But as soon as he managed to stand on his feet again, he glared expectantly at the woman. He was prepared to reap the havoc she promised to unleash upon his enemies. 

She better make good on that.

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

 

The heat that has suddenly overtaken her body was aching to be released. It was no other than the warrior's bloodlust, a quality she was famed for bestowing to armies and anyone who prays to her name as they tear into their enemies.

And as she pressed herself against Ganesh Gaitonde, Ishtar found that this same bloodlust was responding to his need. 

How long has it been since she slaughtered those who offended her? Ishtar could honestly not recall. Perhaps she has become accustomed to the mundane that she must be reminded she was once divine.

The man underneath her was just the one to do it, for he was hungry regardless of the weariness still defining the contours of his mind and heart. There was also that look in those eyes that betrayed his swift submission to her fire as soon as he hit the ground.

For he was like every other king she met; a strong man who could lead and move mountains but only if there was a woman by his side whom he can share the spoils of his conquests with.

And here she is then; the antediluvian goddess of love and war. Unmoved by feigned flattery, Ishtar only possesses very particular tastes when it came to worship. 

When Gaitonde ignorantly named her, he plucked one of the many she went by without being truly aware of the power he was summoning--Inanna.

That was how he had awoken something he should be more careful to unleash next time.

No matter. This old capo will soon find out.

Ishtar didn't waste any more time and rose to her full height. Dusky eyes regarded the man one last time before she whipped her body around and glided back to the spot in the hill, under that modest shade of tree.

Her movements were unhurried, so elegant and precise. She might as well be naked which she intends to be soon enough. Once she came upon her destination, she saw that there were six men, all able-bodied and armed. 

They watched her come close and were frozen from where they stood, possibly due to shock and enchantment. Ishtar only paused when she noticed Gaitonde's leather jacket to the side. She must have abandoned it during the panic earlier.

With a snide smile, her hand swooped it up whilst she strolled. She placed it over her right shoulder next. It was only after she was standing only a yard away from these thugs that Ishtar ceased walking. 

"Boys," she addressed them, "Have any of you ever seen a god dance?

She slid on the leather jacket without breaking eye contact, nor was there any trace of apprehension in her eyes and tone.

The goddess has never grown old at all or ever went into hiding. She was always here.

"Well, bless you, my children" Ishtar remarked then raked the tangles in her hair with a hand, "For tonight you will stir and burn and give yourselves to me."

The moon was a cracked egg spilling across the black.  

Back on the hill, the goddess raised her arms. The wind howled.

And she danced.

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

Ganesh was angry, but it was the kind that he doesn't experience often. It was hard to describe because although the anger was the strongest, there were other emotions around it too that seemed to amplify the effect.

"Bhai, what do we do? We can't bank our future on that woman!" This boy he remembered was called Parvesh. He was twenty-two and five-eleven in height with well-toned biceps that he likes to flaunt so he never wore anything else but sleeveless shirts.

The old capo sat on his haunches by the thick shrubbery, with the two young bodyguards on either side.

The other one, Rajiv, was only eighteen. He was of the same height as Parvesh but much more lean and mean, based on what Ganesh had witnessed firsthand.

"Have you seen the way she moved? Best guess was she's ex-military. No one moves like that without proper training," Rajiv remarked as he pushed his thick-framed glasses to the bridge of his nose. The boy also buttoned his monochrome shirts all the way up the collar. 

Surprisingly, he was known to be the more violent one of the pair; ever calculating in the way he stalked and killed his targets whilst Parvesh was more instinctive and on occasion even clumsy. Both of them enjoyed the high stakes of their involvement with the G-company because Mumbai only breeds boys like this to survive. 

Youth and recklessness were often synonymous that way, as far as Ganesh was concerned.

"Be quiet!" The old capo focused on Ina strolling towards danger. It was when she was almost out of sight that he was forced to move from his position so he can get a better look. His boys followed suit, with their guns lowered to the ground as the three of them stayed close their boss.

"That's not a fair fight," Rajiv remarked although there was a lightness to his tone. "But she could take them all out, for all we know. Let's just observe. What do you think, bhai?"

"Fuck that!" Parvesh was quick to intervene, "We can't let her die since she's Ganesh bhai's woman! Right, bhai?"

Scoffing, the capo said, "After she brought me here, I began to suspect that she was a spy sent to seduce then destroy me. She would have been capable of both. And now..."

Ganesh trailed off as he watched Ina put on his jacket.

"...now I just think she's something else altogether."

"Than just a whore, you mean?" Rajiv easily picked up on what he was trying to say. Bless his coal-dark heart, this boy.

"Yes," Ganesh sensed in the way Ina was posed that she was about to strike. For some reason, it made him command his young bodyguards:

"Down! Take cover and don't look up until I tell you to!"

"But, bhai--"

"Do as I told you, /gaandu/!" He shoved Parvesh's head against the dirt. At this point the three have been crawling on their elbows across the grass. Mud and sweat lingered on their clothes as they stayed on that spot. It was just a good three yards away from Ina and Suleiman Isa's thugs.

With his voice muffled by the ground, Rajiv inquired, "What's your next move, bhai?"

Ganesh was staring at Ina lifting her arms towards the sky when he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Nothing. Not yet," came his hurried answer. "Just keep your heads bowed and don't move."

Anger swelled from his chest and up his throat, making his eyes almost glassy and unfocused. But Ganesh didn't look away from what this woman was about to do.

 

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
Gaitonde's leather jacket served as a second layer that cocooned the fallen goddess while she's in temporary statis. 

And it was imbued with his scent; his starving manhood, the unkind years of his rule and semi-retirement. 

Ishtar inhaled it along with the dusty winds of Mumbai. The permeating hot climate with its soot and other corrosion was like adhesive on her pores. Everything by now had worsened the heat that cannot be quelled in her belly until it rose to her throat. 

The troupe Suleiman Isa sent to kill Ganesh was still dumbfounded as to why this nonthreatening vision of beauty bravely stood in front of them even though they had guns and the rotten intention of murder. Two of them looked at her with unmistakable lust, with their shoulders pulled back and chubby fingers itching around the trigger.

No doubt they wanted to march towards her now and apprehend her, to threaten her with those weapons as they strip her off and take her right there on the sandy ground.

A lofty ambition, of course, one Ishtar will enjoy punishing them for moments from now.

The first of her dances was still mild, a flickering flame in an otherwise consuming abyss that could swallow the light. She swayed her hips, her upper torso sashaying against the current of the wind and to the sound of crickets from the nearby bushes.

It was simple in its elegance, and striking to watch for Ishtar looked at each and one of them while she moved, much like reading through the very sinful layers of their core.

The second dance became even more inflamed though it has yet to engulf everyone in its path. Ishtar's body became more rigid, almost sharp around the contours, even though her arms were fluid in motion, hugging the sky or reeling in the men with the way she pulled those same arms to her chest.

The dance's effects would be instant. Each man would feel like he was running out of breath. Sweat would pour out of his forehead and slide from his back in unforgiving beads. His throat will close up as his fingers would loosen their grip on the gun that is never going to be able to protect him, not at this point.

They were all at her mercy now. Ishtar knew Gaitonde was close by. She would spare him from the horrors of her dance, but a part of her wanted the capo to experience this.

Is she truly the type of woman he would want in his bed? He shall be the judge.

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

He remembered he was still clinging onto Ina's shawl from before, and he used that to quickly wrap his neck and face with it.

Ganesh had no idea what prompted him to even do that. Perhaps it was mere survival instincts alone. Something about this felt life-threatening even if he could not explain it in layman's terms.

With half of his face shrouded by the flimsy garment, he turned his eyes towards the men. They didn't look right at all. None of them raised their weapons or told Ina to halt. They just stood there like meek lambs.

That's exactly the image this entire scenario has conveyed.

And given what happened afterwards, it was indeed a slaughter in progress.

"Bhai, tell us what's happening!" Parvesh sounded panicked and rightfully so. He was obedient at least and kept his face on the ground.

Rajiv was the same but his hand had wrapped around Ganesh's wrist as if to warn him to stay put, which the old capo actually needed.

But he won't stay put for long. Did he not just proclaim earlier to himself that if he must die, then he will face it bravely as oppose to cowering behind a woman?

"Give me your gun."

"What, bhai? What are you going to do?"

"The fuck do you think I'm going to do with a gun, /benchod/?" Ganesh started to pat Parvesh's back until his fingers tugged at the boy's waistband. He was able to pull out the weapon before any more protests. 

  
The capo had his own trusted steel, but he didn't feel like using it somehow.

He then snatched his wrist away from Rajiv then told him, "Make sure your cousin doesn't do anything stupid. I'm going to get closer to them. Okay?"

Rajiv just looked at him with a steady gaze although the old man could see that the wheels are turning in his head. This boy was calmer than Parvesh and always astute. He picked up on things and knew how to respond well to them, such as in this situation.

"We have your back. Just be careful, bhai," he answered.

"Keep your eyes on the ground. Whatever you do, don't look at her."

Again, it was strange for him to say that. What made him deliver such a bizarre warning? Ganesh will probably never understand, but he started crawling away from the bushes and into a better clearing anyway, armed only with his self-belief and the pistol on his hand cocked and ready to shoot.

He only had to aim. With three yards away, Ganesh rose to his haunches and fired two bullets into one of the men. He knew he hit him on the chest and shoulder but the thug did not collapse. Still, there was a look of abject horror on his face the entire time as he watched Ina.

By gods, what was she doing to them? Ganesh tucked at the shawl closer to keep shielding half his face. The urge to turn her way was getting stronger, more persistent. But the fear of uncovering something he was not prepared for was still there too, and he chose to obey to it instead.

Ganesh slowly got on his feet, aiming the gun towards the next man. He shot again. Same result.

The hem of the shawl whipped across his face as the heat of everything became too much to bear, almost squeezing his lungs close. A force of nature was taking over, and he felt very helpless against it.

But if anyone can stand up to fight the will of gods, then it has to be Ganesh Gaitonde.

He's made it this far. He will not die tonight or for many nights to come. So what choice did he have next?

And so Ganesh steadied his arm, cocked the gun and pulled the trigger once more.

This time, however, he wheeled his arm to Ina's direction instead. 

And shot her.

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
The very magnetic force of the earth itself surrounded Ishtar during the most brutal moments of her dance. She stirred the loins of these men in an unforgiving beat, uncaring that in doing so she also revealed that she was not a mortal woman at all but a god.

At present she was liquiefying the root of the men's rationality so as to demolish who they are from inside then out. It would be murder in human terms, but for Ishtar they were nothing more but sacrificial deaths she deserved. 

And it was Ganesh Gaitonde who unwittingly offered them to her altar when he granted her request to lure Suleiman Isa's goons into her web.

A god of her antiquity can only take lives if a believer prayed for it. That was how the Old Way operated.

The capo in question moved from somewhere in the bushes. She barely gave him a glance because she didn't want anything ruining her concentration. Meanwhile, Gaitonde had shot his gun a few times on her prey, but the bullets would be useless.

They were hers to enchant and destroy after all.

Ishtar must have been too overconfident and careles all at once because the next thing she knew Gaitonde turned his weapon towards her and managed to shoot her and wound her stomach. The steel burrowed into the muscle, barely missing an organ.

Though imbued with divinity, the fallen goddess was not as invincible anymore. The bullet wound on her vessel was able to slow her down for a few paces, but Ishtar insisted on her dance nevertheless.

In fact, she got even more violent and desperate in completing the ritual. It was the only way to heal her body, aside from gaining spiritual sustenance which these men's deaths can provide.

Ishtar persisted and tightened the cords around their necks whilst her hips and arms swayed and punctuated the air with such ferocity it would have caused an avalanche. 

With a warning glare at Gaitonde next, she finished her ensnarement just in time as dark clouds swept past the moon above. It would cover the land in brief darkness, enough for her to part her lips, say a prayer then swallow the souls of Suleiman Isa's men.

Their bodies would be charred in the aftermath, reduced to flames and charcoal; this inexplicable combustion that attests to her growing power.

And as Ishtar collapsed to her knees while clutching her stomach, the gaping wound which the bullet had dug itself into would suddenly eject itself from her flesh that has healed.

"It is done," she whispered.

The fallen goddess slowly raised her head to look at Gaitonde once more. She smiled in silent victory.

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

  
With the shawl still concealing half his face and therefore obscuring his sight, Ganesh didn't know exactly yet what had happened after he shot at Ina. 

He assumed that she would fall. It was the most plausible thing after all, but somehow he felt that tonight wasn't a normal one. 

What was plausible and what was impossible were slowly being blurred, and he'd rather not stick around to find out just how badly that went.

However, he's there, trapped between a woman with a frightening magnetism to her and Suleiman Isa's would-be assassins whose singular purpose was to kill him. Ganesh can recall having had worse dilemmas before, the most recent one was getting captured by Parulkar and tortured to submission. 

Comparably, this scenario was almost as bad, and that was a hard sell too.

He stood frozen on the spot for several seconds, calculating his next crucial move. Ganesh almost learned to play chess in his youth, but thought the exercise too intellectual for his taste. He found the strategy that goes along with it highly attractive though, so he persisted in learning more of that at least, never once treating the game as mere leisure.

It was probably why he got tired and bored of it after a few months.

Right now he realized his own board has incomplete pieces. His knights are dwindling while the pawns are all over the goddamn place. His bishop has long been taken. And they might come after his queen next. 

With trembling fingers, he slowly unfurled the shawl from his face just in time as the men were lit aflame. It made him leap, almost losing his balance if not for him being alert enough to stay rooted on the ground.

What in fucking Krishna just happened?

Ganesh stepped away from the burning carcasses. Unable to take his eyes off them, he traced his steps while still facing them. He finally disengaged when he heard Parvesh and Rajiv rushing forward and asking the same questions be couldn't answer for himself.

And then he remembered her.

Without saying a word to his boys, he ran towards Ina. She was on her knees, nursing what he assumed was her wound. He knew he shot her and she would have been injured really badly...

...except she wasn't anymore. 

Ganesh was on his haunches before her when he saw it. He saw the bullet coming out of her flesh like it didn't even graze her. He roughly rubbed his fingers on that spot to check. Frustration mingled with his fear at the epiphany that the wound had just vanished. She was fine. How could she be fine?

"Stand up!" he forcibly grabbed her forearm and lifted her. Glaring into her eyes, Ganesh pulled her close so that their faces were only inches away from one another.

He whispered, "Who the fuck are you, Ina the whore? What witchcraft did you just perform? Tell me or I'll shoot you as many times as I can before I throw you into the fires with those bastards!"

 

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
Ganesh Gaitonde's fear was soothing to her. It was the perfect dessert for the meal she consumed moments ago, which was why the anger that thrummed through his fingertips as he held her upright was almost funny. 

There was nothing threatening about this at all, not to a recently fed goddess who still hungered for more.

"Do not be afraid," she cupped his cheek with the other hand, "I will not harm you."

That single touch possessed a gentleness so maternal that it was almost as if she was finally showing the old, wise woman beneath the veneer of a seductive temptress.

But then her voice and the look in her eye betrayed the greed that also sipped through each word she uttered next, "...for you belong to me now. And anything that is mine is protected, so long as you recognize me as your one and only in this life and the next where your soul becomes the final tribute."

Swiftly, she disengaged her arm from his grasp and used that hand to pull him by the nape so their lips could touch. Their hot breaths mingled for a few fatal seconds, until Ishtar bestowed a kiss to seal that promise. She watched him the entire time.

It should sear through his very consciousness, awakening him with the potent surge of her heavenly power. She was no ordinary woman but a deity again in this moment, thanks to the souls she consumed. That kiss was a declaration of slavery imposed on this so-called King of Gopalmath.

Clasped and ensnared he shall become to her, now that Ishtar realized he could offer many deaths in her name.

She was also aware of the two other men who are witnessing this contract. They looked upon her with abject horror as well as fascination. She will lure them too soon enough, but first there was a matter of making Ganesh Gaitonde submit to her first.

 

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

  
He stiffened the moment she touched him, but only because he knew that if he dared to make any sort of movement, it might just be to hit her.

It would be self-defense, wouldn't it? That's why he shot her to begin with because he knew he and his boys were in danger; that she was dangerous. 

She has just proven that she possessed some sort of magic. As grounded as his general outlook about life was, there remains a portion of him that's superstitious.

He was the son of a Brahmin priest who filled his head with stories about gods and monsters. And this was Mumbai after all. Inexplicable things happen in this city; atrocities committed by individuals that are more demon than they are mortal. 

He knew that after the massacre he committed against the Muslims, it had rendered him to be some sort of mythic creature to be reviled and condemned.

But Ina was different. She may be the real deal.

And so Ganesh was growing fearful of the woman. It had only been two hours since he got to know her and made a rash decision to buy her off so he could install her into his own home. The very thought of having to keep her around at this point was somehow taboo, in that repulsive way that goes beyond skin-deep.

The hitching of his breath when he anticipated a kiss was about to occur testified to that disgust; that irrational fear burrowing into his mind.

As the kiss transpired, Ganesh simply can't think of anything more damning and heavenly as those lips latched upon his own. 

He was disappearing into it, like he was being made to become smaller and smaller.

And Ganesh Gaitonde was fiercely anything but.

So he not only broke the kiss but also--cathartically--slapped her with a force that was not so much to injure her but to reject what she was offering.

He took measured steps back and felt the boys coming close to form a defensive line behind him too. That solidarity was comforting.

Together they face this vile witch whose temptations are dripped in gasoline, waiting to be ignited.

And he will not light that match. Instead, Ganesh raised his gun to point it at her. 

"What," he asked again in a hushed tone, "...are you?"

 

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
She expected this resistance. 

It delighted her even.

The sting of his strike resonated across the skin of her cheek which she brushed her fingers against, delicately, dabbing it as she smiled.

"Does this mean you no longer have any interest in purchasing me?"

Ishtar kept her eyes fixed upon Gaitonde even though his brats had advanced to defend him. It was as if it was still only the two of them who existed in the world. 

Her smile deepened, accentuating the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Without even batting an eye towards his puny weapon, she said, "You should put that down. You're only embarrassing yourself. If I wanted to bring you harm, you would have burned alongside those fools behind you."

The burning stench of death polluted the air. She inhaled it and added:

"I should thank you, actually, for the bounty offered," she adjusted the brown leather jacket that covered her by flipping the lapels rather haughtily, "You are, once again, a harbinger of misfortune. Such tragedies cling to you like moths are drawn to light."

She took a step. And another. And another.

The fearsome goddess didn't cease until the barrel of the gun was pressed to her chest, aimed straight at her heart.

"You're not going to kill me, Ganesh."

｢I am still something you crave, Ganesh. Now more than ever｣

Her voice echoed in his head, simultaneously along with the words she spoke aloud.

"I know you wish to learn more about what I am," she added as a finger teasingly trailed across the gun, "You can't kill something you want to understand."

｢I smell the fear and excitement in you, Avenger, but your courage falters lately. Old age must be getting to you｣

Ishtar kept caressing the gun as if she might as well be stroking the dick in his pants. Confidently, her fingers enveloped Gaitonde's where he was pressing against the trigger.

"I can show you so much more..."

｢...power beyond compare.｣

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

  
Her words were honey laced with poison, and although his mind rebelled to be ensnared, his body beckoned to be taken by her. Once he felt the sensation of her warmth upon his hand with the fingers prodding him, it rendered him useless.  Suddenly he didn't feel as murdeorus anymore. His grip loosened from the trigger he wanted to pull.

Who is this woman? Why did she possess this unique ability to turn his steel will into jelly with just one touch, as words were poured into his head through her lecherous tongue.

"Let me go," Pitifully, he still tried to put up a fight. He willed his hand holding onto the gun to do something. When it wouldn't obey, he used his other hand and raised it so he can hit her again.

But instead that hand grasped Ina by her shoulder to pull her towards him. His mouth collided with hers, seeking entrance to this sweet, beautiful mouth hoarding more promises.

"Bhai!" He heard one of his boys call his name but the voice sounded like it was coming above the surface, for he knew he was lost at sea now and slowly drowning.

Dragged down by this woman. 

Becoming small.

Ganesh snapped his eyes open and found the strength at last to shove Ina away and shoot the gun. The bullet missed her foot a quarter inch. 

"Next one is going right through your chest if you try anything stupid like that again," he grabbed at her next then whipped her around so that her back was against him. 

Twisting her arm, Ganesh pushed the barrel of the gun under her chin. He barked at his boys, "Go back and find the others. We need to clean up these ghastly fucking murders."

"We can't leave you alone with that witch!" it was Parvesh again. The boy was far too nervous and talkative when under pressure. His cousin had been curiously silent, however.

"Just go!" Gnashing his teeth, the old capo shot the two a piercing glare from over his shoulder.

The boys scampered back to the hill.

Once they were alone again, he dragged Ina to the woods where a wheat field awaited. The clouds that hung above and cloaked the moon made everything even more pitch-black than before. 

Ganesh didn't give a fuck. He had Ina imprisoned around his arm and the gun still tucked under the chin, ready to blast her head off.

But the woman reeked of wicked invitation, now more than ever, that his manhood began to swell, so he decided not to press against her as they trudged along.

"You don't know a damn thing about me, you little whore," he said through gritted teeth. "You don't know my mind the way you know my name."

Even in this semi-darkness, Ganesh could see the beginning of the wheat field, so hastened his steps.

"You don't know my heart the way you know my face!"

And that's when he pushed her down the ground. They were now surrounded by stalks of wheat. He didn't wait for her to recover and immediately pinned her down with his weight, all while she lay on her stomach. In anger, he ripped her undergarments with one hand and then pressed the barrel of the gun on her temple this time.

Ganesh then rutted against her like a starving pig, as the cock in his pants began to feel sore because of the fabric that was in the way. 

A small part of him knew that what he was doing was mad. But the delirium that has corroded his common sense since he kissed her kept spreading. And so he tossed away his gun to the side in favor of gripping Ina by the hips so he could align himself perfectly. By Shiva and Durga, he ached for her! Just as much as he despised and feared her. He didn't know which of these conflicting emotions ended and which began.  Ganesh felt hot around the throat that it almost blurred his gaze. He knew that if he didn't take her right here, right now, that he would burn up like the rest of Suleiman Isa's men.

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

  
Panic and fear had energized this old capo all of a sudden to dig deeper into himself and find the wolf. 

Ishtar suppressed her glee as best as she could, something that almost came out in fits of laughter as Gaitonde kept using his gun as the less fun substitute for the throbbing erection he obviously had and was pathetically concealing from her.

It doesn't matter. Eventually, every man would succumb to the war goddess, for their loins sing for fulfilment only she can grant.

And so she made a show of helplessness out of feign courtesy as he dragged her towards the forest, with her heels digging onto the dirt as if in protest. She can, however, feel her breaths shorten due to the anticipation of what Ganesh Gaitonde could do, now that rage and lust swayed him, persuading him to act irrationally. 

She was also ready when he shoved her to the awaiting soil below, and even more so when he tore out her panties. 

Ishtar spread her knees apart. With a seductive vendetta, she drove back against him so that her ass rubbed right on his crotch.

She smirked in success when, out of the corner of her eye, he flung the gun a yard away; it lay there impotently within reach. The goddess has no use for such a thing anyway.

Her real weapon was between her legs after all, and she intended to make this aging capo submit until all his prayers and murders henceforth will be offered in her name. There's an endless bounty to be had if she played this right.

Under her breath, she cited, "Go on then, you mother-killer. Feed yourself with my body, my essence."

Yes, the moment Ishtar connected with his mind a while back, she had glimpsed the sin of his childhood immediately. She knew about the matricide Ganesh Gaitonde denied all these years.

Mother-killer. No wonder he pursued a life of crime since.

The goddess dug her fingers into the dirt and presented herself defiantly towards the man behind her. Even in all fours, Ishtar was powerful--potent--and wholly capable of unspeakable calamities.

"Do it!" Much louder now, she commanded Gaitonde, "Spear me like gutted fish. You know you want to feel big like that, don't you, you coward? You mother-killer! Show me who you are!"

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

Although Ganesh stood upon an open field, he felt claustrophobic. The pressure had built up within him that he felt as if it had a vice grip across the organs in his body, ceasing function all at once, whilst his mind abdicated control in favor of succumbing to blind, animalistic urge.

The last time he felt this way was his very first encounter with righteous wrath at the tender age of eleven.

And when Ina, this beastly witch, brought it up as if she read his thoughts just now, the shock and fear were enough to render his jaw slack and his eyes moist.

The fresh tears made his sight hazy for a short while before he shed them. But no sooner when they fell that Ganesh wiped them with the back of his arm. Afterwards he used his grip on the woman's hip to forcibly flip her so that she was on her back instead.

Ganesh wasted no time and grabbed her throat with both hands now, yanking her towards him like a weightless thing so pliant underneath him. She was warm and firm trapped between his hands like this. And the volatile words she spoke, all of which were precision strikes to his psyche and heart, served to worsen the the cloying thickness of his attraction towards her.

He hated her for seeing and understanding exactly the man that he is. And he wanted to fuck that out of her, to take her power away so he didn't have to feel this dismantled. The truth was she might as well be the one choking him and not the other way around.

Ganesh has no words to spare so he allowed his touch to speak for itself. Rough and possessive, he was tethering at the brink of violence as he unzipped and entered her. There was a lot of grunting and huffing of air but no rhythm to his thrusts.

Did he forget how to dance? He knew he was a far better lover than this, but this wasn't an act borne of love or passion. This was mindless possession.

With his hold still resolute around her throat and his other hand migrating from her hipbone to one of of her breasts, the old capo bent her in half next, so that her ankles rested upon his shoulder blades.

Around him the stalks of wheat shivered against the wind. The minimal light from the sky bathed Ina with a glow so sparse that it only accentuated the duskiness of her flesh. Slowing down his thrusts, Ganesh leaned towards her and whispered, "I could kill a league of a thousand men if it meant taking you for my own like this."

He bore his eyes into her own as he once more slammed against her over and over until he's lost all sense of time and place. Until everything in this present and the past he wished to leave behind bled together and revealed who he had become.

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

 

 

Ishtar watched the man unravel before her with avid interest and glee. If only he was paying more attention, he would notice that her eyes had become a golden yellow with narrow slits of black pupils that resembled a serpent's.

Gaitonde was staring right at them, although he wasn't seeing her, not really. He was too caught up in the labyrinth of his own mind, chasing after the trail Ishtar trekked when she tinkered around with his memories a while back.

Each thrust sent Ishtar's back upwards into the dirt as she accepted his length in all graciousness as if her body was a mere vessel made entirely for him to partake in and brutalize with sex. 

Tightening her core as her thighs squeezed around his hips, the goddess would admit, in quiet resignation, that she was also growing drunk with desire far more than she would admit. 

It deepened when he spoke to her once more. His honest declaration to slay a league of thousand men in her name was not hyperbolic; neither doubted he was more than capable to deliver that promise. 

He was Ganesh Gaitonde. And she was going to make a believer out of him yet, that was her own gain.

As divine as Ishtar may be, the centuries of living in mortal flesh somewhat made her body susceptible to pleasure like most women. She usually can curtail this only because previous clients she had before did not have the same effect as Gaitonde certainly has.

How laughable. And to think that she thought him plain when she first laid eyes on him! Now here she was, legs bent over her head as the man fucked her in desperation and oh, how she enjoyed every second of it, every inch of his cock delving deeper into her. The moans that poured out surprised even her, but she delighted in it nevertheless.

Rising to meet him halfway, Ishtar cupped his cheek and the side of his neck while she bruised their mouths upon one another's, tongue seeking his. She started rocking back against him, the movement of her hips almost resembling the dance of destruction that claimed the lives of those men behind them.

 

 

 

 

・・✶❮« »❯✶・・

 

 

He could not recall the last time a woman showed this much level of passion for him, save perhaps his late wife, but even then their consumation was simply a self-aware duty between husband and wife.

Ganesh knew he had been falling for Subhadra, however, although he could not be entirely sure she felt the same. The closest thing he felt she could have been too was every time they had sex.

Or perhaps he was merely imagining it. They never once professed love for another in the daylight.

He tried not to think about her now, not while he had another woman in his arms; someone so vile and thrilling, whose deadliness ensnared him more than the desirability of her flesh.

She had power, inexplicable power, and Ganesh coveted it. If he had to fuck her over and over on the off-chance he sees it again, he would. 

His fingers gripped the back of Ina's thighs for balance as he attempted to rise to his feet. The sudden change in position meant he had to grab hold of her calves this time, momentarily disentangling from their union so he can change the angle of his entry and subsequent thrusts.

Ganesh fingered her to lubricate the passage some more so that it wouldn't be difficult to re-enter again. He actually wanted this to be a memorably pleasant experience not just for himself but for his consort.

As soon as he was back inside her and standing erect, the old capo renewed his rhythm and fucked Ina with all he's got. The new position helped in maintaining his stamina since he was allowed to stay stationary with only his hips moving. It was good for the aching back too. 

Ganesh had no doubt that Ina can adjust, being nubile and experienced in the art of pleasuring men.

He could feel himself ready to burst. There was a real dilemma taking place now as to whether or not he should delay it for her sake or just get it over with so he can start questioning and figuring out who the fuck she truly was. 

The decision, unfortunately, was made for him.

His phone vibrated at the back of his pants. Since his pair was lowered to his knees, the vibration happened on the back of his left pocket. He had put the phone on silent earlier tonight. The suddenness of it caused him to pause. An annoyed frown settled on his lips. 

Ganesh decided to just ignore it. He needed to get off so badly anyway. Whoever's calling can wait.

The old capo leaned and increased the pace of his next thrusts, grunting, desperate with a pressing need to empty himself inside this woman soon. Through it all, he moved Ina's ankles to rest upon his shoulders and gripped her hips. Looking straight into her eyes, he imagined reaching Nirvana itself through the mere command of her wet heat engulfing his girth as he moved inside her, ruthless in fury.

Again, his phone vibrated.

"Maderchod, benchods!"

It made him lose concentration altogether now. After all, he only ever gave his number to a few people; Bunty, his second-in-command, Kanta Bai (who doesn't like using her phone) and Jojo, his pimp and only friend.

Those three would know better than to call him out of the blue. Something urgent must be happening. It would be ill-advised not to take the call, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

"I need to answer," he told Ina, though not necessarily asking for her permission. He slowly let her legs go and then pulled up his pants. 

Ganesh owned the latest cellular phone model since he liked to keep up with the changing times, particularly technology. Handling business over a mobile phone has become very convenient too especially for partners he has overseas.

But he has a different phone for that. This one he was holding at the moment was for personal things.

The name that flashed on his screen was Kanta Bai's. Now he's troubled. There could only be one reason why the old woman would be calling especially so late at night.

"Yes?" The excitement earlier left him half-breathless and flushed, but Ganesh willed himself to focus now.

"Listen, can you hear me?" her voice came off slightly choppy from the other end. He had to walk a few paces away from the field and Ina so he can get a better signal.

"what's happened now? Is it the boy?"

"He wants to see you, Ganesh. He doesn't want to sleep until he's seen you."

A wound that barely healed inside him has been cold and dead since his wife's murder. And then that same crack was suddenly flooded with salt the moment Kanta Bai mentioned the boy.

"I'll be there," he ended the call and stood there on the spot, motionless. It lasted for several seconds before he turned to Ina.

"We have to go," His tone was curt, almost harsh, "Get your clothes back there on the hill. Just hurry up."

He started patting himself down too in an attempt to look at least half-decent. Afterwards he picked up the gun and slid it through the garter of his pants.

"This time we're taking a jeep out of here. Hurry, woman! I need to see my son."

 

 

 

 

↢❂⟨◦◦⟩❂↣

 

 

 

Ganesh Gaitonde took her with a merciless thirst that her well-fed body was more than apt to quench.

She was teeming with mana and generous enough to share it with this king she's so close to enslaving and therefore liberating in return, much like all the monarchs who have gone through her since the dawn of the gods.

Moaning as she angled her body to accommodate the changes in positions and the depth of his thrusts, Ishtar made herself malleable and eager to please all throughout. Her arms are more muscled than anything that could be seen at first glance, and with them she kept herself steady while Gaitonde grasped her ankles, and then her hips later on, while he fucked into her.

She didn't even realize what else was going on until he ceased thrusting altogether and spoke of answering a phone call. Suffice to say Ishtar was not pleased, but she pulled her legs off his shoulders and fingered the lapels of the leather jacket she was swathed in. Underneath it, she wore only her brassier.

The goddess has stood up now too, wiping away the dirt and dust from her skin as much as she could manage, all while glaring at Gaitonde who  didn't even do the courtesy of ejaculating into her first before attending to whatever business he had to end their coitus for.

Folding her arms over her chest, Ishtar was the portrait of longsuffering impatient woman. She was about to snap at the old don when he said something about...a son.

"Wait, what do you mean by that?"

She could only stare at him in bafflement until he urged her to fetch the rest of her clothes back at the hill where the heap of burning carcasses lay.

"Fine, you bastard," she scoffed under her breath then peeled the jacket to throw back at him. Afterwards she marched all the way back to the hill without even a glance towards his direction.

The heat of arousal was starting to subside which made her angry for she has not even satisfied herself yet and neither has he. And for what? His son, he said. He had a fucking son.

No one in the media or police has ever mentioned that Ganesh Gaitonde had a progeny. If that was the case, then it must have been such a well-kept secret.

She supposed she could understand the reason. Still, to spring that on her while mid-coitus was downright in bad taste.

By the time the capo finds her again, Ishtar would be pulling her peach-colored salwar kameez back in place. Her shawl was lost somewhere back in the wilderness, she supposed. Gaitonde used it in an attempt to choke her; that she could recall.

She suddenly missed that violence. It was better than what awaits them later on. Visit his son. Ishtar has no time for a goddamn kid.

Instead she walked over to the burnt men a few yards away, assessing the damage for herself. A small smile played at her lips; this was just the beginning of the many sacrificial offerings to come. To associate herself with a man like Gaitonde from now on should yield her a bountiful harvest of souls.

Perhaps that should be enough reason to forgive him for his earlier insolence. There will be plenty of time ahead of them for the joys of copulation anyway. She intended to stay by his side, to latch onto the fat sources of kills and carnage he can dedicate to her.

That meant she had to make him understand the nature of what she was and what she required to live as an antiquated deity. But Ishtar was still wary; revealing that she was of divine ilk to a dangerous man like Gaitonde is going to be the biggest risk she would ever undertake.

The repercussions will be costly, and she has no wish to repeat what lengths she had to go through with the last person whom she told.

"I have to trust him bit by bit though," she told herself as she stood there among the pile of ashes at her feet, "If I so desire to make him do the same."

Ishtar lifted her gaze towards the dark horizon. The clouds have at last dispersed away to unveil the moon in all its melancholy and borrowed light. She was beautiful and lonely up there, bereft of the usual stars that accompanied her.

A breathy exhale escaped Ishtar's lips.

Dusk will approach hours from now so that the moon must make way for the sun to rise. She didn't look forward to it at all. There was something about nights like this after all that made her feel more at peace with what she was, what she will always be.

The night was her only home and, in this foreign country where faith is assimilated among different factions of people in the caste, Ishtar knew now more than ever she has never belonged here. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 


	4. Inset - Kailashpada

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 ▬๑⟨※⟩๑▬

 

1999, ᴋᴀɪʟᴀsʜᴘᴀᴅᴀ

 

 

 

 

 

The engine coughed in agonizing bouts like a ward filled with tuberculosis patients. It was a grating sound that filled every crevice of the already tense silence inside the truck. One would think that such a secured vehicle which carried violent men inside would at least not have a shitty engine.

But this is Bombay, at the heartland of Kailashpada, where even the most glamorous and untouchable of the privileged still has to scrape off the grimiest bits of poverty from the very shoes on their feet.

Ganesh was at the nexus of this paradox, a living example of what this city—this gandu of a country—does to its most ambitious men.

He sat across five of Suleiman Isa's boys, two of them in the midst of holding back a laugh at the sight of the rival don among their merry gang. They have, of course, heard of the rumors that the once great Ganesh Gaitonde has been neutered by Parulkar, the officer in charge of his captivity and eventual release.

For forty-some odd nights, Parulkar and his men had him lay on his stomach as they beat him with sticks. These systematic blows targeted the soles of his feet. The skin on that area is the most sensitive part of the body, next only to the nail beds and navel. 

He couldn't walk for a whole month and had to be carted off to his cell or the toilet where he's separated from the other prisoners whilst he bathes and tries not to wince from the many other wounds on his stomach and back which haven’t healed then.

It was a routine he got accustomed too soon enough, for one of Ganesh's greatest assets is his adaptability. In the mornings he would eat, wash and try to talk to his own boys from a block so far away from his own. He only ever got to successfully get in contact with them twice. 

Twice was enough to get him what he needed.

And, at night, the extreme measures of torture played out.

Inside the truck at present, one of Isa's men could not help himself and said, “So, Gaitonde-ji, I heard you have a beautiful voice whenever you sing for Parulkar-saab at night.”

Ganesh said nothing as he kept his eyes downcast. He was the portrait of meekness, just a disgraced ganglord who was fed to the wolves and abandoned now here in this claustrophobic containment where his rival’s would-be assassins sit not even a foot away. His knees often bumped with theirs every time the truck would hit a curve on the road.

“I heard,” another one chipped in, “…that you have a plump gaand, Gaitonde-ji. Plump as a fresh fruit that Parulkar rammed his dick into every night while you compose him a ballad!”

They talked to him this way now because he was alone and there were five of them. These two are the most heavy built from their group, and so felt very confident to sling insults towards his way. Men of their bulk yet meandering intelligence often flexed their muscles for intimidation. Ganesh has encountered several of them as he climbed his way to the top. 

He also knew that they're the same men who took one look at Ganesh one day long ago in the streets and didn’t think he was anything to be feared. At only five foot-six with a slender build and a forgettable face, the don of the G-Company was a walking farce to organized crime itself.

And now they sat across from him, filled to the brim with cruel amusement, still fixed on their opinion that Ganesh Gaitonde was not a rightful rival to their own boss, the Muslim capo Suleiman Isa who got out of India two years ago and has been content to monitor his business from afar since.

It occurred to Ganesh then that these boys were still green behind the ears, because they had no idea that he was the reason Isa wasn’t even in Bombay anymore. And the fact that these benchods ended behind bars so early in their recruitment could only mean they were expendable to the S-Company.

The three other men said nothing to Ganesh at the moment, but he could feel they watched him with the kind of hawk-like vigilance that revealed they had been around longer and therefore recognized him as someone they could at least show an ounce of begrudging respect to.

As their younger recruits kept making rather vivid remarks about how Parulkar can just dock his ghanta in Ganesh's mouth even in the middle of a meal, one of them finally snapped and told them to shut up.

“A bhai is a bhai, maderchods, even if you don’t work for him,” he warned them. 

Ganesh slowly raised his gaze to look at the face of his defender. He had sideburns and a hairy mole on the left side of his cheek. They briefly locked gazes as a moment of understanding passed between them. It was as solemn as two men could look at each other inside a place of worship like a temple or mosque.

The ride was quiet again for the next five minutes.

And that was when that the girl on Ganesh’s lap spoke.

“WheRe dO bROken heaRts gO…” 

It turned out that she was singing along with the radio from the front seat as she swayed her pale legs in time of her singing. Dwarfed inside a raggedy pink sweater with the image of skull crying blood stitched across the chest, the girl who called herself ‘Del' had her arms wrapped around Ganesh's shoulders. 

She looked just like any little girl on a commute ride with her dad, uncaring of the rest of the world whilst she sang her tunes in broken intervals.

The catch was that none of the other passengers could see her, let alone communicate with her.

To Ganesh, she was an imaginary friend his mind conjured up two weeks ago during one of his baths. It could either be due to loneliness or madness, but whatever the case, he’s stuck with her now.

He remembered the day she arrived. It was a Thursday; he knew because the meals were scheduled and they always have unseasoned daal and days-old chapati for lunch every Thursday. He could already smell the cuisine being prepared as they carried him all the way to the secluded washroom.

Two guards lifted him from the cart and dumped him on the cold tiles before they left to wait outside. Parulkar had been kind enough to let him oversleep until noon, but that was only because of the severity of the beatings last night.

Ganesh crawled on his elbows until he reached the stool located next to the only working office in the entire washroom. His feet had been profusely bleeding, and the blood mixed with the soap and water while he cleansed himself in an unhurried pace.

With his back turned to the door as he stared mindlessly ahead, Ganesh poured water on his head using a bucket. He had slept for what felt like days and yet he was still tired. The ceaseless torture certainly didn’t help.

It was while he was about to clean his bleeding soles that he felt someone behind him.

Ganesh turned sharply to see who it was. He didn’t want any warranted surprises especially in prison. 

And there was this girl with chaotic tendrils of rainbow-colored hair just staring at him. She was very pale and had mismatched eyes, one green and the other blue.

The girl was foreign in every way imaginable and foreign in a way he did not trust.

Since he could not stand, he just swiveled his body from the stool while a hand cupped his scrotum. It was not for any reason of feigned modesty but for protection. Meanwhile, his other hand gripped the bucket, ready to use it on her if she did anything even remotely threatening.

But all she said was “heRe, doGgGiee! coMmeE tO meE”

She then knelt to her haunches and grabbed him by the ankle with a swiftness he did not calculate for. Ganesh was knocked out of balance immediately, falling out of the stool and almost breaking his hip. The sting of the impact vibrated through his body, and it made him clench his jaw and groan.

He wanted to curse her aloud but his head is spinning. What he could only do was lift his hand still holding onto the bucket and slam it against the girl as soon as she climbed on top of him. 

But the bucket didn’t even hit her. Before his very eyes she dispersed as a trail of butterflies, and the next moment she was standing above him, her bare foot resting on his forehead. 

“badD doggIeEE!”

And then he was dragged by the arms before falling and falling

a n d . . .

 

f a

 

l l

 

i n g

 

.

.

.

 

When Ganesh regained consciousness he realized he was inside a shack in the middle of the woods. He recognized it instantly. The fear was so palpable he could taste it at the back of his throat.

No, his mind protested, none of this can be real.

Instead of trying to find a way out of it, he simply pulled up the blankets he was swathed in and hid in them. 

And just when he thought things could not get any worse, that same girl was under the covers with him, staring and smiling before she tickled him and said, “gOOd dogiiiE! noWW let  mE fEed yOU oNe tReAt!”

The sudden jolt of the truck brought Ganesh back to the present. He turned his head and tried to see through any crack in this enclosed space just so he can learn if they were close by.

The truck was being driven to the most nearby clinic for a standard medical check-up. He figured that his own was more than that, which was suspicious in itself already, particularly since his fellow passengers were all from the rival S-Company. It was only too easy to conclude this was a possible assassination, but why there had to be five of them was still a mystery.

Personally, if this was his gang's hit, he would have only sent three boys; two to do the deed and one to clean up after. The fact that they have five here—with two of them being ignoramus maderchods—just struck him as overkill, if not an inefficient waste of time and energy. 

Was this a rogue hit then? He knew that some new recruits, in their rush to prove themselves, go after the don immediately as soon as he’s vulnerable. Is that what this is? But mole-on-the-left-cheek was clearly not a reckless recruit and so were the other older men with him who have not said a word since they climbed inside the truck.

It was hard to describe how Ganesh felt at the moment. On one hand he was nervous, though it was the kind of anxiety that lent itself to gladness. After forty nights enduring physical stress and pain, Ganesh itched to fight someone—anyone—to prove he still was the kind of man you shouldn’t trifle with.

“yOu’RE saD agAiNn doGz. DOn'T yOu wANT tO bE hapPPy foreVER? jOanN wAs in tHeE eNd. shE was a baBy dOvEe anD weE plaYed and PLaYed unTiL sHe wEnT eeeEek! tHenN i wEnTt WeEEee!”

Ignoring Del, he leaned back against the iron encasing of the truck and stared at Isa's men, memorizing every detail of their person. The girl on his lap has begun to feel restless and was in the middle of reciting gibberish that wasn’t even in Hindi anymore when the driver hit the brakes.

They heard the unmistakable bang of the barrel against the side of the vehicle as one of the guards said, “Pee break.”

One by one they were all taken out , starting with Ganesh. The air outside was more humid than he remembered with the sun at its highest peak in the sky. Thick shrubbery and some low-hanging trees littered the pathway as a guard walked behind the shackled Ganesh. There was a good three feet distance between them, and he did not doubt for a second that there was a gun aimed on his back the entire time.

Del, meanwhile was skipping next to him and would every so often move around him in a circle. He had learned to just walk through her, seeing as she did not seem to possess a solid form unless she willed it so. And, besides, having Del for company was better than no company at all. She has creeped up on Ganesh over the course of several days since their first meeting and has since turned herself into an inviolable part of his existence.

He unzipped so he could relieve himself, all while his mind reeled back to that shack back in the woodlands.

Finding a random girl in a bathroom at a men’s prison was bizarre enough but to be transported back into his childhood home which he vowed never to return to was disarming. All he could do was to stumble out of that mattress but not before he tried to choke the little bitch under the covers first.

He couldn’t find her anymore. She was just gone. Breathing heavily, Ganesh looked around at the shack, haunted by the eerie familiarity of everything he thought he had forgotten; cracks in rain-sullied walls, dusty curtains, and the asthma-inducing perpetual incense smoke that clings to the pores. But, most of all, there was the distinct sound of a woman singing from behind a bedroom door.

Ganesh hummed the wordless song under his breath as he crept closer and closer. Snippets of this song he knew will forever be lost in translation and yet the melody itself was eloquent. It was something whole, more whole than an actual person could ever be. And so he trailed after it, snatching each note like he was meant to devour it with his mouth until the song became a thread he can hold onto.

He knew that it was only by reaching the end that he would see his mother again. In his dreams—back when he still dreamed of her—Ganesh as a little boy often would spy from a hammock and spot her sitting by a mirror in her desk, combing her black hair that reached past her elbows. She knew he was there and she would smile.

Her left shoulder was exposed which she would then douse in powder and perfume. A finger traced that spot before the other digits wrapped around her bare throat, and she would massage the skin, delicately, and stare back at her reflection with the kind of sadness only old women have.

Ganesh was posed behind the door of the same bedroom. He was no longer a child but a man grown, and very confused as to why he was brought here to the shack, gaping at his mother who was just a few feet away. This was a hallucination he simply would not stand for.

Trembling hands carefully pushed the door open. A wind whooshed past as he did, and it was then that his mother turned. 

And then…

And then…

Ganesh jolted as something wet hits his face. Tears? But it was cold. He even choked as soon as it slips past his parted lips. Water, it was just water. He tried to open his eyes, blinking away the liquid  from his lashes, and he saw the guards standing over him, shouting for him to get up, get the fuck up.

Back at the bathroom again. Ganesh had collapsed and there was bruising at the back of his skull, yet it was mild compared to the other scope of his injuries before the fall.

His feet, washed clean, still hurt. All he can do was to lean the weight of his upper torso against his elbows so that he can at least lift himself in a slightly bent sitting position. The guards were having none of it, but they had the common decency to carefully hold him up and guide him out of there. 

Afterwards a nurse came to wrap his feet in bandages, frowning the entire time. She was the same one who visited him for a total of nine times now. It was obvious in the way her shoulders slumped that she wasn’t happy to tend to a patient who gets beaten every other night anyway, which meant these bandages will be dirtied in no time.

But there wouldn’t be another beating until three days later.

Del hadn’t appeared again until after that beating started to occur. She was there for the most of it too, crouching by a corner in the cell. The entire time she stared, Parulkar and the other men did not see her or interact with her at all, and it was then that Ganesh realized she was made-up and that he was losing his mind. 

At first there was terror. And then relief.

He was afraid that prison has truly broken him, hence the girl. But as Parulkar and his goons left him to lie on his back against the concrete floor, Ganesh was seized by a giddiness. He laughed. It was the kind of laughter that made him wheezy and teary-eyed, and just like that the pressure was gone. The fear became empowering, casting a net that caught him before he could drown in the sea.

And Del laid beside him that night and she called him a good doggie and said that she would have fed him treats again, if only she could remember where she misplaced the chicken nuggets. She rambled on and on like that, and Ganesh gave him her ear. He allowed for the gibberish of her hurried yet melodious speech to consume him for that night and more nights that came.

The girl never had to introduce herself. Ganesh just knew, like lightning, that she was called Del. It was the name he liked on his tongue but only ever spoken in his mind during their interactions.

And she was his friend.

That friend now hopped back onto his lap as soon as he was taken inside the truck again. It took ten minutes for everyone to get their turn for the pee break. Uneventful as it was, Ganesh at least had Del whom he wished he could touch the way she could touch him. He felt content, though only on the surface.

The two maderchods were soon mocking him once more. They hardly changed their tune about Parulkar and the beatings, so enthralled they were about their assumptions that nobody else in that truck felt like breaking their hearts. Even Ganesh himself, although he supposed he could admire their commitment and the consistency of their taunting, no matter how erroneous.

He could sense in the way the road curved that they must be close to the destination. Del had been napping quietly on his lap, with an arm behind his neck while her free hand was pressed against his chest. Ganesh still could not figure out what kind of hallucination she was supposed to be, but he liked that she kept calling him her doggie and he secretly hoped she would never leave.

She stirred awake when the truck stopped for the second time. There was another bang of the barrel followed with, “We'll be back. Stay put.”

Del giggled and clapped her hands together. He’s used to her reacting inappropriately by now, unable to follow a single rhyme or reason as if she was cut off from what is happening at present. She turned to Ganesh at once and whispered in a rather conspirational tone: “i fOunnd tHe tReatSs! i reMeMbeR nOww. do you thiNkK jOan would sTilL wanT tHeMm? WouLdD sheE haVe onE mORE rOOM foR hEr ArC??”

Ganesh returned her enthusiasm with a wry smile. So, she found the treats. After two weeks when she first promised she will give him one. Better late than never, he supposed.

The next thing he knew Del was pressing something against one of his hands. He looked down and was shocked to find that he was no longer shackled, and that there was a blade on his right hand. It was quite a fine instrument too; thin as an ice pick and just as sharp at the end. The handle was made of some type of leather, smooth and calming against his palm. He gripped it, looked at Del and before he could ask, she said:

“enJoy yOuR cHicKen nuGGET, dogGo.”

As soon as she vanished from his lap, Ganesh went to work. He fed.

 

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
